


The scars of you

by obsessedoverseries



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessedoverseries/pseuds/obsessedoverseries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gallavich Soulmate AU where one recieves the scars of the injuries of their soulmates.<br/>This is a self-harm fic. It's not pretty, because self-harm is not pretty. I know this is a sensitive subject, so please be cearful while reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He's about to fall

"What the fuck?" Said Mickey when Mandy dropped the stolen wardrobe they were carrying towards the truck. The side that she was supposed to hold had crashed and broken. "Mandy! You fucking lost us at least five hundred bucks there!"”

“Yeah? Well, sorry. Maybe next time you’ll learn not to piss me off when I have your money in my hands.” said Mandy aggressively. Mickey made a huffy face and put down the wardrobe. He was about to go on fighting with his sister, but he lit a cigarette instead. He walked away from his siblings and stood some feets away from the truck, inhaling smoke into his lungs. Mandy followed.

“I’m sorry” she said. “Didn’t mean to drop it.” She held her hand, asking for a drag.

“Nah, it’s my fault. Shouldn’t have asked a girl to lift anything heavy”

“Fuck off!” she said blowing the smoke on his face. “What the fuck happened to your eye?”

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “How should I fucking know? What do I have?”

“A scar or something like it. Pretty big one below your eye.” She touched it as she explained. Mickey slapped her hand away and traced his fingers where the scar was supposed to be. He didn’t remember being hit on the face lately, or anything that could cause him a scar. But maybe it was an old one and Mandy, the asshole, didn’t notice it until now.

“Hey assface! Time to roll!” Iggy shouted from behind. Mickey took the last drag of his cigarette before stepping on it.

Once home, Mickey grabbed a beer and sat on the couch, alone. Mandy had left with some dude she was fucking lately, his father was in jail again, and Colin and Iggy were dealing with some idiot preadolescents that were desperate for pot. He got bored easily from the TV and decided to take a shit. He went to the bathroom and caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. He had already forgotten about his sister pointing out some scar on his face. But when he saw his reflection his eyes widened.

“Holy shit” he whispered. The scar was much bigger than he had expected. He leaned closer to the mirror and touched the wounded area with the tip of his middle finger. The scar didn’t look like a scar at all. It was too red to be an actual scar, but too textured to be a scratch and it went from the side of his eye, to the middle of his cheekbone. It looked painful, but it didn’t hurt a bit. He was sure that nothing could have done this mark to him, and he found himself wondering if this was the soulmate thing that happens to some people. But this was the south side, and he was a Milkovich, none of them ever had a soulmate mark, and Mickey knew that he, of all people, would never get those marks.

Because he knew he was gay, and he would never let himself that close to a dude. He would fuck random guys sometimes, but he’d never come close to even like them. He knew he’d never be able to love a woman, but neither will he love a boy. If he did, his father would kill him. There was no way this mark could mean soulmate things. He convinced himself that maybe he had been drunk when he hit something with his face, and that was all.

* * *

 

Ian flinched when Veronica cleaned his face.

“Sorry, sorry” she said. She was trying to wipe the blood away from his face, but it kept draining out. “I just need to see if this shit is deep enough to need a few stitches. Fiona! bring the Anaprox!”

“It’s okay Vee, I can clean it for myself.” said Ian. He was mad and wanted to be left alone. The only thing no one should do after Ian being hit by Frank, was to fuss around him. Yeah, sure, they needed to know if he was badly hurt or something but if someone touched him again he was going to punch them in the face.

"Jesus, Ian! Stay still!" Shouted Veronica grabbing his head so she could see the wounded eye. "You movin’ like a lost spermatozoon on a menopausal woman." And that was it, that made him snap.

"Leave me the fuck alone, everyone!" He shouted pushing Veronica away with exaggerated force, causing her to fall on her butt on the floor.

Everyone stared at him with confusion and horror. He said nothing and left with a deadly face, slamming the door shut. He had to run, or punch something, or fuck someone until his anger faded away. Fuck it, he could do the three things. He was so vibrant with anger, it scared him.

He stormed inside the Kash & Grab store, his face still bleeding. He didn't have to work until an hour later, so Kash's face lightened up in surprise when he saw Ian.

"Oh, Ian! What brought you here so early?... Jesus, what happened to your face?" He said with a horrified expression.

" Frank happened." he answered and locked the store afterwards. He took his jacket off and looked straight in Kash's eyes. "Fridge" he commanded.

"Wooh, easy. What got you so bossy?"

"Just get inside."

Just about a few minutes later, Ian was pounding him so hard that even Kash's stretched ass was suffering the strength. Kash was moaning and groaning when he got too hurt. Ian was wearing a straight face. He was sweating and breathing heavily, but he wasn't enjoying himself, he was fucking his frustrations away. But none of it was enough, it would only be enough if he could rip Kash in two from pounding him in the ass. The thought of it scared him so much, but instead of slowing down, he could only oblige to his violent urges.

“Whoa! Whoa! Ian! Stop!” Kash shouted desperately. Ian didn’t pay attention to him and went even harder and deeper. “IAN!... Sto--” Kash cried breathlessly. Ian came back to his senses and pulled away in a state of commotion. Kash was holding himself against the wall, trying to catch his breath, still bent downwards. Slowly, Ian backed away from him, eyes wide open, realizing that he had really hurt him. He could feel his legs tremble with fear, what was going on with him?

After a few minutes, Kash was able to breath sort of normally again. “Wha… I’m… I’m sorry” he managed to say. “You… Are you okay?” he asked rubbing his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. Ian was still shaking and his mouth was hanging open.

“I… I should go.” said Ian and his voice cracked. He took his clothes and left the store without giving his boss a single glance.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know this is short. But the next chapters are going to be longer. I hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading.


	2. This won't help

It has been the most boring week for Mickey Milkovich. No stealing, no drug dealing, no nothing. Colin and Iggy had been working for uncle Ronnie and he didn’t see them much. And not seeing them means no fun. He had been trying to get some money by stealing fancy smartphones, and sometimes he went under the L to practice shooting. But he wanted more action.

It was late afternoon and Mickey was sitting on the porch, smokes on one hand, beer on the other one. He was surrounded by empty bottles and trash, and he had started to feel dizzy from all the beer he had consumed. He looked dirty, no more than usual anyway, but the scar had faded away a few days ago, which made him appear less terrifying.

He was about to stand up, when a patrol pulled over in front of his house.

“Fuck.” he whispered. What was it this time? A black uniformed man stepped out of the car and approached to the fence.

“You’re Terry’s kid?” he shouted.

“You a cop and don’t know my name?” scoffed Mickey. The cop ignored him.

“Terry’s gonna be let out tomorrow. He’s out on probation.”

“Overcrowding?” asked Mickey taking a drag of his cigarette, acting uninterested. It was just an act though, the fact that his father was going to be back in the house frightened him beyond reason.

“Seems like it. We’re gonna need at least one of you down for paperwork. Tell your uncle he has to be there too.” Mickey didn’t answer and the cop left. He stared a few minutes as the patrol was leaving, then he took a long swig of his beer.

“Shit!” he slithered. This was bad, really bad. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten used to his father’s absence; he always came back, he knew that. But he thought of Mandy, of himself, the countless times he had to witness his father throwing punches at them, threatening their lives constantly, while he sat helpless. Yet, they always had to act like they missed him, like they were glad he was back. Mickey trembled with fear and despise. He stood up and almost tripped, the alcohol was messing up with his movements. He looked at the empty bottle that he still held in his hand and threw it strongly against the door. But the second before the collision, Mandy opened the door from the inside.

“What the fuck Mickey?!” She screamed after she dodged being hit. The bottle smashed against the entrance wall, and bits of glass flew all over the place. Mickey widened his eyes and brushed his nose with the back of his hand.

“The bottle was empty.” He offered as an explanation as he pushed her away from his way.

The next day, Mickey was woken up by a slap on his face.

“Jesus! What the fuck?!” he shouted sitting up on his bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me dad was coming today?” Mandy snarled. Mickey rubbed his eyes, his head was spinning with the hangover. “You told Colin and Iggy on the phone but forgot to tell your fucking sister?”

“Colin and Iggy are my brothers too.”

“Half brothers. Or whatever.” she smacked him again, but this time, gentler. He grabbed the cigarette box from the bedside table and opened it. When he saw that it was empty he threw it on the floor.

“Is he here yet?”

“No. Colin and Ronnie went to the station to pick him up. You’d better be up when he comes.” she said walking away from the bedroom. Then she shouted from across the hallway “And help me put up the welcome home sign on the door!”

The hanging sign was hideous. It was an old and dirty silver festoon with the phrase “welcome home dad!” written in different colors. Some letters had fallen off so they had to replace them with non matching spray-painted papers; the whole thing was a mess. Mickey was standing on the ladder while Mandy was handing him the sign. He didn’t understand why was he the one hanging it, he was shorter than his sister and he couldn’t give less of a shit. He held his hand to grab the shitty thing, and then froze.

It was a mark, a new scar on his left wrist. It was very similar to the one he had had on the side of his eye: red, textured weirdly, but this time, the mark looked self inflicted, which obviously wasn’t the case. Mickey had never done anything like it. He hated his life more than anyone else on the southside, but he would have rather live his entire life with the unbearable nerds from highschool, that harm himself on purpose. Was it possible that this-?

“Are you gonna grab the goddamn thing or not?” Mandy interrupted his thoughts. He came back to himself and started hanging the festoon.

Later that day, Terry was home. The whole Milkovich family was sitting around him, listening to his prison stories, eating some waffles that Mandy had prepared. Terry was telling them how he had beaten up some black dude that he had found having sex in the shower, and Mickey flinched. He remembered the scar on his wrist and stared at it, trying to prevent the other ones to see it. He suddenly felt buried under the weight of what it meant. If this was a soulmate thing, there was a dude on the other side of it.

He hadn’t notice the rising preoccupation that had taken over his face until Mandy kicked him under the table. She made an expression, signaling to him to have some composure, but he was far from controlling himself. He had so many thoughts on his head, so much fears and worries and questions. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, putting them inside little boxes in the corner of his mind. But now, he couldn’t, so he decided to escape the situation for at least a few seconds. He stood up and went to the bathroom. He stayed there a few seconds, pacing nervously, tracing his fingers over the scar, emptying his mind. About three minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Mickey are you okay?” It was Mandy. She had spoken in a low voice. He rubbed his fingers strongly over his frown and opened the door. She made a noise when he pulled her inside, but Mickey shushed her with a wave of his hand and closed the door quickly.

“What do you know about soulmate marks?” he asked her.

* * *

 

Ian had been in bed for the last two days. He had told Fiona that he was sick so that they wouldn't bother him. But after skipping a few meals, Fiona was starting to worry. She had been asking him if they should take him to the hospital, and Ian had refused every time. He was sick, but not the kind of sick that needed a doctor’s attention. He was sick of his life, sick of his siblings, sick of being inside his skin.

He needed to be left alone, and disappear slowly into nothingness. He had thought that it would have been easy, considering his family had never payed attention to him. But now they have decided to do so, which made him think that they didn't actually give a shit, they only cared when he wasn't there to help out with their messed up lives.

But why would they care anyway? He wasn’t as smart as Lip, or as crazy as Carl. He wasn’t as good with taking good care of people like Debs or a baby like Liam. He wasn’t even their actual brother, he was an outsider to his own family, he had no future in the military, no future with Kash, and Frank had developed an increasing interest in punching him in the face. He wasn't special, he wasn’t essential to the family, and his life outside the Gallagher clan sucked. He felt useless, unimportant, forgotten and he wanted all to stop, all of it.

Ian was facing the wall when someone came inside the room and turned on the lights. He closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

“So, umm… You are pretty sick huh?” said Lip sitting on the corner of his bed. Ian heard the sound of the lighter and assumed that Lip had just lit a cigarette. “What is it? The stomach or something?” Lip was trying to get an answer out of his brother but that was not going to happen. “...Dude I’m worried about you. If I didn’t know you better I’d say you’re not sick at all… Is there anything else going on?” he asked him. God, was he ever going to shut up? Ian turned his head slowly till he was facing Lip.

“I’ll be fine.” he assured him, but Lip didn’t seem convinced.

“You sure there’s nothing else going on?” Jesus, why the fuck does he care?

“Yeah. It’s just a bad stomach flu.” Ian rolled back into his position and crossed his arms tightly around his blankets.

“Well… Come downstairs and have some dinner tonight okay?” Lip said standing up. He waited for an answer for a few seconds, but he didn’t get any; Ian got exhausted and couldn’t find his voice anymore.

Later that afternoon, he was waken up by voices whispering near him. It was Fiona and Lip. At first he couldn’t get what they were saying but after a short time he started listening closely.

“...and besides, it’s not like he’s been there for a week.” said Fiona

“But look at him, Fiona. Tell me this doesn’t look familiar.”

“I know what you are thinking, Lip. But this is not like it, okay? Even if he’s a little bit down, he’s sick, and that’s just that. He’s not Monica.”

“And what if...?”

“What if nothing.” she interrupted. “Here’s what we are going to do. We’re gonna let him rest for now, we’re waking him up for dinner, and if he doesn’t get out of bed tonight, we’ll take him to the clinic. They’ll tell us if he’s actually sick, or if this is something else. Okay?” And after that he didn’t hear more voices.

So that was it. If he stayed in bed, he’d be taken to a clinic where they’d tell Fiona that he wasn’t actually sick, and that would result in more and more of them bothering him. Why wouldn’t they stop acting like they gave a shit? If Ian wanted to be left alone, he would need to show them that he was okay, even if he wasn’t. This way he’d be able to go back to be the forgotten member of the family.

That night, when everybody was downstairs screaming about food and settling the table, Ian tried to stand up. It took him more than a few minutes to get out of the bed. He knew this was the only way to be left alone again, but when he wasn’t lying down on his side, the pain on his chest grew bigger and bigger, making it impossible to breath properly. His need to sob and sigh had increased just by taking a step towards the door. It was the hardest thing he had done in his life, but at some point, he made it to the stairs.

Everyone was just chatting loudly in the kitchen when Ian appeared from upstairs. He was walking slowly and silently. Fiona was the first to notice him.

“Hey Ian!” she shouted and everyone stopped talking. They looked at him as if he was a ghost or something. He must have been in pretty bad shape, and his face surely wasn’t the one of a happy puppy. He tried to smile slyly at them, and although he thought he failed, it seemed to do the trick, because next thing he knew, his siblings had resumed their conversations.

"How are you feeling pal?" Said Lip putting a hand on Ian's shoulder.

"Better." he lied.

“Glad to see you out of bed.” and after voicing that, he left him alone.

Ian was eating his chicken soup in silence while the rest of the clan was chatting loudly and cheerfully. The more his sibling laughed, the more he felt the pain on his chest. He was struggling to breath, his hands were shaking and his eyes were filling up with tears. He couldn’t handle it. The exhaustion of being surrounded by people, of having to hide his need to disappear, and the sadness of finding himself again feeling invisible, were going to kill him.

He stood up and run to the bathroom, trying to stop the tears that burst out of his eyes. He locked himself inside, sobbing uncontrollably. He was so devastated that he felt like crying out loud, and although he wanted to scream with agony, he knew he shouldn’t be heard.

Suppressing his loud sobs, he punched the wall strongly. He felt some sort of relief once he did, but the pain was so strong, so big, he would have needed to punch it a hundred times to feel better. Then, the idea jumped into his mind.

He didn't know exactly why, but somehow the punch he gave to the bathroom wall made him realize what he needed to do in order to feel better. He opened the cabinet and saw a razor.

He didn't cut too deep, but the pain and the blood flowing was weirdly soothing.

There was a knock on the door and Fiona spoke.

"Everything okay in there?"

Ian looked at his bloody wrist. "Yeah..." he answered and then murmured to himself. "Yeah, I'm better now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it goes, the second chapter!  
> I'm sorry if it is too dark on Ian's POV, I'm trying to keep it as realistic as possible. Some of you may find that the descriptions of his feelings do not match with what you know about self-harm or depression, but please keep in mind that everyone experiences these in a different way, and I'm writing from my own experience and point of view.  
> Please let me know in the comments what you think, if you liked it, or if you didn't.  
> I'm going to post the next chapter after the 23th of January.  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Sleepwalking

A few days had passed and Ian had mastered the ability to fake a smile. He could wake up everyday and pretend to be normal. He could sit with his family at meals and sometimes join the conversations. He had learnt to hide his emotions so no one would notice he was hurting.

Now that he had started working again, Lip and Fiona had stopped being after his ass all the time. Who he couldn’t get rid of was Kash. Ian had tried to use the sick card a few times but he knew he couldn’t use it forever. Every time he tried to have sex with his boss, he couldn’t enjoy it, he couldn’t make his dick hard. Also, the pain on his chest grew bigger and bigger when he tried, so he decided to avoid it. In the end, what Kash thought or felt didn’t matter, nothing mattered anymore.

Sex aside, Ian had realized that he could do almost everything that he had done in the past. But the only thing he couldn’t do was to stop suffering. There was only so much time he could spend pretending, and it was extremely exhausting. Sometimes his sadness erupted out of control, reaching the point where he couldn’t hold himself together. At that times, his need to cry and scream took over him completely, and it didn’t matter where he was, there was only one way to stop it.

At first he had thought it was a one time thing, but as soon as he realized he couldn’t make it through the day without it, he kept on cutting himself. It was like a strong addiction, not to the pain itself, but to the relief he felt every time he did it. He felt like that with those cuts, he could take the pain away from his chest and leave it on his wrists, so it wouldn’t interfere with his life. Not that he was exactly living, it was more like he was sleepwalking throughout his day.

Five days had passed and Ian was alone at home. He stayed in bed, burying himself under the blankets, knowing it’d be impossible to stand up when his siblings arrived. He wished he could stay there forever, there was no point in doing anything else. At some point, Ian fell asleep.

“Hey Ian! Move your lazy ass! We have to make some money.” shouted Lip smashing the door open. Ian opened his eyes but stayed still. “Ian! Wake the fuck up.” Lip insisted, pushing him slowly.

“Mmh… tired” was all Ian mumbled.

“You are always tired lately. Are you on drugs or something?” As soon as Lip said that, he knew that his peaceful misery was over for today and that he was going to be bothered for at least five hours.

"Fuck off" said Ian sitting up.

Lip explained to him how they could scam some money out of a bunch of lost tourists. Ian listened carefully so he'd know exactly what to do in order to shut him up as quickly as possible.

A few moments later, Lip and Ian went to find Carl and started following the plan through. Lip lead the tourists towards the only abandoned house of the neighbourhood that hasn't been taken yet. He convinced them that it was an historic building in which some racist nazi committed awful tortures to the people of the south side. In the meantime, Carl and Ian borrowed some of Kev and Ve’s sex toys to set the scene.

Lip was outside the house, making some shit up about the facade of the building, and keeping the group of tourists busy, while Ian and Carl were cleaning out the dust and placing the “torture objects” around the corners of an empty room. Carl took a big spiked ass plug out of the pile of sex toys, and looked at it with genuine confusion.

“What is _this_?” he asked Ian, holding it with two fingers. Ian’s eyes widened under the understanding that _that_ was supposed to fit in Kev’s ass.

“I don’t know, but it looks extremely painful.” he answered taking it away from his brother and placing it with the other stuff.

“How?” insisted Carl but Ian ignored him.

They went to the kitchen to see if they could find any old knife or something, but they didn’t have any luck.

“Hey guys, how are you doing?” whispered Lip from the door.

“We need more time to find more stuff” said Ian.

“We could go home and find some of your military stuff” added Carl, with the excitement filling his eyes. Lip thought for a second. Ian was just standing there.

“This is what we’re going to do. Carl, take the neighbour's bike and go home. Take Ian’s stuff and come back right away, okay? You’ve got to get in through the back door. Ian, put everything inside the basement. I’ll take the tourist there and tell them some morbid story to entertain them. When Carl comes back you go straight upstairs and put everything in one bedroom.” Ian and Carl nodded. “Okay, let’s get going.”

Carl left though the back door and Ian started placing everything on the basement. He was exhausted, and he wasn’t sure about being alone there. Every single moment of those past days he had wished to be left alone, but now that there wasn’t someone in front of him to whom he had to pretend to be normal, he was unsure on how to proceed. He knew what he had to do, he knew this task wasn’t the hardest he has ever done, but somehow, he felt that placing sex toys on an abandoned basement was the most difficult thing someone could possible do. He tried really hard not to take too long with it, and failed miserably. Only half of the objects where in it’s place when Carl came back.

“Ian hurry up!” whispered Carl from the top of the stairs. Ian scattered the remaining objects and rushed upstairs. When they were inside the room, Carl threw a little stone through the window in order to let Lip know it was safe to the tourist to get inside.

They heard the front door and silently started putting Ian’s military equipment on top of the shelves. Carl was quick and clean on the task, as if he knew how a nazi psychopath's bedroom looks like. Ian on the other hand, was pausing at every second. Seeing his military equipment reminded him how he had failed his west point application, another failure that proved to him his life was senseless, that he himself was a failure. Tears had started to fill his eyes and his legs had started to tremble. He was about to collapse on the floor when he saw Carl taking a razor out of the bag.

It was his razor. The one he hid on the bathroom cabinet, the one he had forgotten to take with him today, the one that he was going to need in any second. Why did Carl have it? He was supposed to grab only the stuff under Ian’s bed. What else did he see? Was there something else Carl wasn’t supposed to see? Where his cuts correctly hidden?

He checked his wrists quickly and they were effectively hidden by his clothes.

“Gimme that” Ian said with a low voice. “Razors won’t work, they were invented after the nazis.” He took the razor away from Carl and placed it securely inside his pocket. They stayed silent for a few seconds. Ian wasn’t paying attention but apparently Carl was.

“They went to the basement.” Carl murmured after a few seconds. “Let's go.”

They tiptoed through the house and left. Ian needed to flee, to escape from himself, to run until his soul left his body, and as soon as he started moving, Carl stopped him.

“Don’t we wait?”

“Go home, Carl.”

“But…”

“Just go home.” Ian shouted and left, running away from everything.

He run until his lungs hurt, until his tears clouded his eyes. He couldn’t feel his body. The only thing he could feel was his numb chest, his heart pounding uselessly. He had lost control over his sobs and he was breathing errantly. When he saw himself under the L, he stopped and leaned against a column. Every inch of his body was trembling without strength, the agony was too unbearable. The pocket where his razor rested grew heavier. Once again he knew what he needed. He collided on the cold floor and grabbed the tiny metallic square from his jeans. Crying, Ian took the blade to his wrist.

* * *

 

One, two, three, four… eight. Eight scars had come and go on Mickey’s wrists on the past five days. There was no point in lying to himself any longer. Those were soulmate marks, and the person on the other end of it was hurting himself.

Mickey had started to worry after the third mark. That one was a big, long and deep scar. Usually those marks lasted only one day on his skin, but that one took three days to disappear. Since then, he begun to check his wrists the way a nurse checks on a dying patient. Although he didn’t know the guy, he needed to know if he was okay, and the only way to know was to check for scars. Every time he found a new scar he felt helpless, how was he supposed to accept the fact that the person that he would love the most, was so lost that needed to provoke pain on his own body?

He had started hiding his marks now that his father was there. Not that he would pay enough attention to him to notice them, but he had to be careful. The only one who knew about it was Mandy and she wasn't very helpful. When he asked her, she didn't tell him anything that he didn't know already: that they were marks of the injuries of ones soulmate and that not everybody got them. But she didn't know anything else, and afterwards all she did was asking stupid questions. _"You got them?"_ ,   _"Do you know to whom do they belong?"_ or _“Can I see them?”_. Mickey regretted immediately his decision to ask her, and needed to make his own research.

He grabbed one of the stolen computers that were lying around on the living room and locked himself in his bedroom. Once he typed the words on the search bar he realized that the issue was far more complex that what he had imagine. Apparently the “soulmate mark” wasn’t just about soulmates. The correct wording was _“love of life warning mark”_. Soulmates come in pairs, they reciprocate, and last forever, but the marks could appear in an isolated way, which meant you could get the marks of the love of your life, but you may or may not be the love of that person’s life. Great. Mickey was sure that was the case for him. Who could possible reciprocate a Milkovich south side thug, especially the gay one?

Other interesting thing about those marks was that they could vary over the time. Someone could fall out of love and stop getting the scars, or change so much over the course of the years, that his old soulmate won’t fit that place anymore. A new love could become a new love of their life and that would result on them getting the correspondent scars, and you could get the scars of more than one person at the same time, in the case that you had more than one "soulmate" simultaneously. There was little information on how they worked biologically, although most of the scientists agreed that it was the human’s body resourse to alert that one is being under attack, to whom would actually go to their aid. People started getting them around the age of seventeen years old, when the part of the brain that reacts to love was fully developed.

All the sources he had consulted agreed in one thing: the marks stop to appear once the two parts of the phenomenon are together to help each other. So that meant that, even if he was sure that he won’t be loved back, he needed to find this dude in order for him to stop hurting. Mickey switched his search to “how to find the person behind soulmates marks”. He was extremely disappointed. There were a lot of bullshited articles dedicated to female teens on how give someone your marks, or how to find the true love. He also found a lot of celebrities gossip about unrequited warning marks and more bullshit. He closed the laptop with anger and hid it under his bed. He rubbed his eyes tightly and sighed. The word lost didn’t even begun to describe how he felt right now, his head was a mess.

There was a loud noise on the house, followed by a female’s scream. _Mandy!_ he thought. Mickey jumped off his bed and rushed to find the source of the noise. He saw his father and sister exchanging deathly glares. There was a guy on the floor and Terry had a bat on his hand. Mandy was standing between them, blocking Terry’s way. Mickey stood out of sight but ready to interfere if necessary.

“Drop it dad!” she commanded with a serious voice.

“I don’t want pussyies in this house! Get him out or I’ll kill him myself.” Terry spitted.

“You heard him,” said Mandy, addressing the boy who was lying on the floor. “Get out.” The boy stood up and left running. Mickey stepped inside the kitchen and looked at his sister with concern. Terry gave her a final glare and headed the living room with a bottle of beer on his hand.

“What was that about?” asked Mickey.

“Just forget it.” she answered cleaning the blood on the floor.

But Mickey couldn’t forget it. He was afraid of what his father might have done this time. He took two cigarettes out of his pocket, handed one to Mandy and lit the other one. It wasn’t much, but he hoped that his sister would get this as a hint that he was there for her. He stayed next to her until his father left the house, probably headed to the alibi. The house was silent and Mickey wished Colin and Iggy were there too, it has always been easier for them to protect Mandy from Terry than it has been for him.

“Want eggs?” Mandy asked breaking the silence.

“Yeah, sure.” he answered. “Scrambled. And very salty!” Mandy left to the kitchen leaving him alone on the couch. He rested his elbows on his knees and looked down. His wrists looked clean and free of marks. There was a little redness on his left wrist, and Mickey thought it was yesterday’s mark fading away. But he was wrong. He stared at the spot for a few seconds and he realised that the area took an increasingly intense color, and suddenly the area was transformed into a textured red line whose length grew transversally to his veins. A new warning mark. That made them nine in five days. Nine times his unknown love of his life had slight his own skin.

“Dude, please, stop.” whispered Mickey to himself, feeling the pain of not being able to help.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where the story really starts. From now on everything is going to take a twist.  
> I don't really know where this will end but stay tuned, because this is just the beginnig. I have in mind at least 10 more chapters sooo... I hope you stick to the end of it.  
> Thanks for reading and you can follow me on Tumblr (obsessedoverseries) if you want to.


	4. STOP

Mickey was pissed. Not regularly pissed, not like “I just woke up” pissed. He was beyond angry, like “he could take his dick out and urinate in every single person that crossed his was” pisssed. His anger was pretty much unfounded. Not that he didn’t have an excuse to be mad; frustrations, suppressed fear towards his father, living in the fucking shithole that was the southside of Chicago, and of course, having an apparent soulmate or whatever that was mutilating his own wrists. But none of these were news to him. In exception of the scars thing, Mickey was used to this things, and he had handled in his own fucked up way all of the shit life has thrown at him. But today he couldn't handle anything.

Mickey bursted inside the house with a bag full of stolen groceries and saw Colin and Iggy playing cards at the dining table.

"Told you! Four A's. Gimmie your watch." Said Colin laughing.

"I was gonna sell it!" Complained Iggy.

"Then sell it, but I want the money."

"You are a cheat." scuffed Iggy and started shuffling the cards.

"Here's your fucking pringles." said Mickey putting the bag aggressively all over their game, headed to the kitchen, grabbed a beer can from the refrigerator and gave a really long swig to it. Colin made an exasperated noise and Iggy opened the bag with excitement, he loves his pringles so much.

“This aren’t barbecue pringles!” he exclaimed with disappointment.

“There weren’t any on Kelly’s shitty store, so eat up or shut the fuck up.” replied Mickey. He wasn’t really in the mood to hear his brother complain about fucking chips, they had more serious things to worry about right now, which reminded him… “Colin! Drop those stupid cards. We need to get going.”

“Where are we going?” he said uninterested.

“We need to get a new van.”

“What happened to our van?” asked Iggy with his mouth full of pringles, eyes wide open.

“Well, _someone_ forgot to change the fucking plait again, so some berry came and took it a few hours ago.”

“What?!” said both of Mickey’s brothers standing up. “And, and what did you do?” Colin added.

“Nothing! What was I supposed to say? Stop it’s mine?! I don’t wanna get fucking arrested. Stop asking stupid fucking questions and let’s go!” Mickey finished his beer and threw the empty can on the floor before leaving the house.

Colin was the one who was good at all the car stealing deal, but Mickey always wanted to tag along with him in case things got messed up and he needed to fight someone off. This was the day Mickey hoped things got messy, so he could find someone to use as a punching bag. Unfortunately, luck was never on his side. The most he got to do was to tell an old lady that was staring from across the street to fuck off. Clearly not enough to get all his anger out. And to make everything better, he had left his cigarette box at home.

Once they were back at the Milkovich house, Mickey searched for his cigarettes inside the pockets of his jacket, but found nothing. He looked up and saw Terry sitting on the couch, smoking one of his cigarettes. The box laid almost empty on the coffee table, surrounded by lots of papers and cigarette butts. He took one and lit it, avoiding to look at his father who was ignoring his presence. He inhaled deeply the smoke into his lungs in order to calm himself down, because there was no use in protesting about his father. He knew too well how bad that could end.

He tried to watch the tv to distract himself. He didn’t sit next to Terry, he just stood up behind the couch. The news channel was on, and they were talking about a big car crash that happened on Chicago highway. It was pretty boring. But suddenly the headline changed from “Massive collision” to “Pride Parade in Illinois”. _Shit_ , Mickey thought. Terry’s eyes widened and he started screaming.

“Those fucking faggots!” he shouted. “They get to appear on the fucking faggot loving news!”

Mickey flinched and walk away from the tv. While Terry was shouting a whole bunch of homophobic rants to the tv, he went to the kitchen and tried to cook something, anything. He wasn’t hungry but he needed to do something or he’d end up trying to fight his dad. Everything he did, he did it too aggressively; opening the fridge, putting the pan on the stove, cutting the fucking cheese…

Mandy stepped inside and looked at him with concern. “Mickey, are you...?” she started to said, but his brother interrupted her fiercely.

“Yes, Mandy. I’m fucking okay, just leave me the fuck alone!” he yelled at her. She just looked at him. Mickey realized there was silence in the room, there was no more shouting. Terry was gone. Mickey abandoned his cooking attempt and Mandy handed him a cigarette. She stayed there with him the same way Mickey had stayed with her in the past. They both sat smoking in silence, sharing that moment, and Mickey really tried to empty his mind and calm the fuck down. He had been in a bad mood all day and he was getting tired of it. As he breathed nicotine into his lungs, he tried to stay away from all the things that could make him snap.

But there were things he couldn’t avoid. His eyes met his wrists by accident and he saw two new warning marks, one on each wrist.

“Jesus fucking Christ!!!!” he shouted enunciating every single letter, causing Mandy to jump. He stomped towards the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. Mickey had had enough. He needed to make this guy stop this shit right now. He didn’t know how though. If only he could send a message to him, make him see that someone cares.

And maybe he could. Maybe this guy could get his scars.

He had been sure that he’d never be loved back. But if there was a chance that he did, there was a chance he could help this guy. So even if the odds weren’t the best, if there was any chance that those marks appear in both of them reciprocally, the only way to make him stop was to tell him so through them. He didn’t gave it any more thoughts to it. If he got the message, great. If not, he’ll find another way. He opened the cabinet and found some blades. He grabbed one and started slighting the word on his forearm.

“Fucking shit! Auch!” he shouted as soon as the blade broke his skin. Mickey wasn’t the one who complained over a little cut, but doing it to himself hurted like a bitch. Slowly he made the cuts into the only word he thought could help this guy. “Stupid fucking piece of shit!” he yelled again. How did his _soulmate_ do this every fucking day? “I hope you get the message bitch! because this hurts like fuck!”

After a few more “fuck”’s and “bitch”’s of pain, the word STOP was marked on his skin, and blood flooded out of it.

* * *

Ian cleaned the blood on his wrists and bandaged the wounded area. He didn’t mind to let himself bleed, but he knew those cuts weren’t deep enough to cause any actual damage, and letting his family see the blood was not something he wanted. He put his long sleeve shirt back on and assured himself that his wrists were properly hidden.

The whole process of cutting himself and hiding it correctly took a long time and a lot of concentration. It not only helped him to relieve all his sadness and pain, but also helped him to focus on one simple task, which made it easier for him to empty his mind from all thoughts. The only problem was the itch. Some of his older wounds had started to heal, and healing came with lots of itching. And the worst part of it was that he did not have to scratch, or someone may notice the cuts.

Fiona gathered the Gallaghers around the kitchen table. Winter break was almost over and it was time to see how much they had on the squirrel fund for the rest of the season. Everyone put most of their money on the table, except for Ian and Fiona, they put all of it. She counted all the money and divided it into different envelopes with the names of the siblings on them. When she counted Ian’s money, she made a face.

“Aren’t you saving some money for yourself?” she asked him.

“Ummm, no. Why?” Ian replied

“Ian, you had been working hard for this money. Don’t you want to buy something for yourself? Not even a new pair of socks? We really don’t need all of it.” The tone she was using suggested they did, but also she was trying to convince him to take some of the money.

“Don’t worry about it Fiona. I’m good.” He really wasn’t. But he didn’t need any money, he didn’t want anything for himself. His sister looked at him, trying to protest, but he shut her off with a shake of his head.

“Okay then… You can always change your mind later.” She added finally. “Well, we now have seven hundred and forty eight bucks for the rest of the winter. We can make it well with this. I’m planing to find a new job so we can count on some spare money.”

Everyone was happy with the amount of money they had saved on the squirrel fund and the reunion didn’t last much longer. When everybody left to do their own thing, Ian thought he would like to take a nap.

“Ian, wait.” called Fiona from behind. Ian could almost feel the “I’m worried about you” crap she was going to play out. Ian turned around and looked at his sister impatiently. She stood there in silence for a few seconds, giving him a condescending look. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Ian, I know that’s not true. We all do.” she said and waited for him to start talking, but he just stood there, looking at her, focusing in trying not to cry. Fiona sighed at the silence and took some steps towards her brother. “You know you can talk to me about it, right?... Was it someone you broke up with?”

“What?” he said dazzled. Did Fiona really think that this was about a relationship? He wished he could blame this on someone else, but he couldn’t. The only reason he had his heart broken, was because he himself was broken. He was a forgotten useless piece of shit.

“Man, it’s been weekes. I don’t know what put you so sad, but we do miss your smile.” she grabbed his hand and held it. “We love you.”

“I know Fiona, but I’m fine.”

“Okay.” she gave up. Ian thought that the sadness on Fiona’s face was because she wanted him to open up or something, but how could he possibly explain to her what was really going on inside his head? “I’ll go to the store. Do you want something?” she offered.

“Umm, no thanks. I’ll go clean up my room.” he said and walked away. His eyes were filling up with tears again. He had done so much effort to forget about how he was feeling, and a few seconds talking with his sister ruined everything. It brought back to his mind how alone he was, how his family didn’t understand him, and how he’d never be a real member of the Gallaghers. Even if Fiona told him they cared, Ian knew they really didn’t.

Ian realized he was crying halfway through the stairs. He entered the bathroom and rolled up his sleeves, thinking about cutting before his previous wounds stopped bleeding. But he was surprised with the weirdest scar he had ever seen. The word “STOP” was written on his skin, not with ink, but with scars. But those scars looked nothing like the ones he had on his wrists. The texture was weird, and they had a bright red color.

“What the hell?” he whispered to himself. What was this? Why was something written in his forearm? Why did it say “stop”? He stayed in the bathroom thinking, staring at his arm, until suddenly, he got it. “Oh, no…”

“Hey, Fiona!” Ian said rushing downstairs making Fiona jump..

“Ian! I’m about to leave to the store. You need something?” Said Fiona as she was putting her jacket on and heading to the door.

“What do you know about soulmate marks?” Ian asked hurriedly, if this was what he thought he was, it was a really bad thing. It seemed that she was taken aback by the question. She stopped moving and looked at her brother with no expression in her face. Ian stared back at her, his eyes filled with fear and doubts. He had been crying not long ago so maybe the redness of his eyes was what made his sister speak.

Fiona sighed and left her purse on the couch. “Remember Steve?” she asked him and Ian nodded. “Well… Once, he was hit by Tony. I was at work. One of my coworkers looked at my horrified and told me I had some sort of burnt scar on my face. When I saw it, it shocked me and I came home early, thinking I had to go to the hospital. And then I saw him, cleaning his face on the bathroom. The mark on my face was no longer there. That’s when I knew Steve was the love of my life.” There was a pause. Ian nodded, not knowing what to say, and thinking that this story wasn’t going to help him much. “But then he changed. And one day he came home with a pretty big cut on his hand. And I didn’t receive the mark that day.”

Fiona grabbed Ian by the arm and hold him tight for a few moments. Then she let go and took her purse. Ian opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t know what to say or what to ask, so he closed it again. Fiona opened the door and stood there. When she spoke again, she did with a serious tone. “Ian, those things are a real pain in the ass. You get them without knowing the person and then one day you don’t get them anymore. You never know if it’s mutual or not, and they end up bringing more problems than solutions. It’s better for you to ignore them.” And after saying that, she closed the door behind her.

Ian sat on the couch, thinking about what his sister had told him. _You never know if it’s mutual or not_. So maybe Ian was getting someone’s scars, but that person didn’t get his. In that case, he was safe from someone knowing about the cuts. Except for one thing. The scar he got said “stop”. Who would get that scar without it meaning something? As much as Ian tried, there was no other way to see it. There was someone on the other end of the scar that knew about the cuts, and was trying to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so things are starting to get fucked up, and they'd get worse. But I promise they'd get better soon enough.  
> I really hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Tell me Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this is a bad timing for a new chapter since everyone is still moved by last night's episode. But I also now I took too long to write this so, here it is.  
> Enjoy your reading!

Its been a month since the last time Mickey had warning marks. He hoped this meant the guy was better, that he didn’t feel the need to do it anymore. Maybe this boy had found some light in his life, was surrounded with people that could help him and won’t think of harming never again. But Mickey was also scared that this could mean exactly the opposite. The marks had ceased to appear the same day he had decided to send him a message throughout his skin, and that could only mean one thing, that whatever this was, it was mutual. What if this guy had seen the word “stop” and found another way to harm himself without Mickey noticing? What if he was swallowing bleach or some shit?

He hated feeling helpless. If he was facing a problem, he wouldn't hesitate to start throwing punches until the problem was solved. But now he didn’t have a face to blame; the fault lay entirely with human biology, so he spent his days picking up fights with anyone who stared at him more than a fraction of second. A few times he came back home with a sore jaw and a black eye, making him look more frightening than ever.

Mickey was putting in order all the stolen smartphones he had on the table. He had been back at the smartphone’s business after finding a man who bought the broken ones at a fair price. Mandy stormed inside the house and sat on the other side of the table. Mickey glanced at her distractedly and she glanced back.

“The fuck you want?” she said aggressively. Mickey raised his eyebrows and shook his head. They stayed in silence a few moments, putting the mobile phones into different boxes, until Mandy broke the silence.

“Why can’t I have them?” she asked, dropping a couple of phones inside one box. Mickey looked at her puzzled. “The scars, Mickey. Why can’t I have them?”

Mickey looked down and shrugged. He knew his sister was tough, but he also knew that her desire to fall in love and scape the south side was the most big and painful wish she ever had. The fact that her brother above all people was the one to get soulmate marks was killing her. He could see the hopelessness in her eyes as he didn’t respond, so he stopped filling the boxes and crossed his arms above the table.

“Mandy, this thing is shit. Trust me, you don’t want them.” he said as firmly as he could. Sometimes it was really hard for him to help his sister and keep pretending he doesn’t give a shit. Mandy made a huffy face.

“I bet you care a lot more than what you say. Do you know who she is?” his sister asked him seriously.

“No.” he answered with fake uninterest. Of course he didn’t know who those marks belonged to, but they were definitely not from a _she_. Mandy took the boxes away from him forcing him to look at her. She opened her eyes widely and stared at him with a serious expression.

“Do not fuck this up. I don’t care if you feel you don’t deserve this person, if you make the same mistake that mom did, I’m going to stab you to death.” she threatened. So now she was bringing mom into this.

When they were younger, one of the things that frightened them the most was Terry. Things haven’t change over the years, but their early fears were sort of different. They weren’t scared that he could hit them, they feared that he could kill their mother. Mickey was nine years old when he saw the wounds on his mother’s face. The scars were hideous, red and big. At first he had thought that Terry was responsible for them. That same night, Terry came back from the Alabi with a drunken breath and bloody knuckles. Mickey and Mandy were sitting on the floor playing with their fists, and their mother was in the kitchen, her face covered with makeup. But apparently her makeup wasn’t enough, because when Terry saw the redness in her face, he started screaming.

“Why do you still have that fucking scar on your face you piece of shit?! Imma erase it you cunt!” he had shouted before pushing her towards the bedroom. What happened afterwards was too strong for Mickey to handle. The screams, the crying, the sound of a head knocking on the door... all of it was too much. At that moment he couldn’t understand why would Terry beat her for the scars that he himself had inflicted on her. It wasn’t until years later that he understood that those scars weren’t just regular scars, but that they belonged to another man who his mother loved more than anyone.

Mickey flinched under the memory of it and stood up, leaving his sister behind and heading outside for a smoke. He sat at the porch glaring at the street and exhaling the smoke with fury. He looked at his empty wrists and traced his thumb softly on them. He saw the remaining scars of the “stop” he had written in his forearm, and found some kind of rash around it. Mickey let out a sigh thinking that he sort of missed the feeling of the warning marks, even though it was fucked up.

The door opened and Mandy came out, sitting next to him. He didn’t speak to her, he didn’t want any more lectures about his mother.

“I’m sorry.” she said after a few moments of silence. “I just care about you, you know?” Mickey didn’t answer, he took a long drag instead. She made an exasperated noise and smacked him on the back of his head.

“Hey! What the fuck!?” he shouted.

“Thanks for speaking douchebag. You have to stop pretending to be an ashole to me, idiot.”

“And you have to start minding your own fucking business.” he barked at her, but she didn’t flinch.

“Whatever, dickhead.” she said standing up. “By the way, you should go see a doctor for that rash.” Mandy pointed Mickey’s forearm and he raised his eyebrows. “If that’s contagious, I want you out of the kitchen.”

“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.”

“It is. If you don’t go, I’ll take you there myself.” she said and slammed the door behind her. Mickey stood up and sighed with boredom.

A few hours later Mickey was walking home, after selling a few boxes of mobile phones to the dude that lived some blocks away. He had half a grand on the pocket of his jacket. If he was any other dude, he’d never dare to walk on the southside with that amount of money, but he was Mickey Milkovich, the guy those type of dudes were scared of in the first place. When he arrived the house, Mandy jumped in front of him, not letting him move.

“Did you go to the doctor?” she inquired.

“Fuck, no.”

“Then get out.” Mandy pointed towards the door. Mickey tried to walk passed her but she was getting in his way constantly.

“Okay, okay… you need to stop this shit.”

“And you need to go to a fucking doctor. I don’t want waking up tomorrow and find out I have scabies because of you.” she pushed him towards the door. He felt like punching her.

“You’re not going to stop?”

“No. Get out.”

“Fuck you!” He shouted and left the house. Iggy was standing outside with a cigarette box and a huge grin on his face. Before he could start mocking him, Mickey flipped him off and started walking down the street.

“Oh, come on _scabies_! smoke it off!” Iggy laughed from behind.

Mickey thought of not going. He thought of heading to the Alibi to get drunk or to steal some liquor from any store and spend some time drinking on the streets. But for reasons that were beyond his comprehension, Mickey was sitting on the waiting room at the nearest hospital. There was an old man sitting next to him, who was coughing his lungs out and grossing Mickey out. Sitting in front of him there was a young lady who was staring at him with terror.The smell of the clean linoleum, the sound of distant voices and hearts monitors, and the white flickering light of a broken fluorescent, were like a new and awful world to Mickey. Everything was fucking awkward at that hospital. The more he waited, the more uncomfortable he felt.  He stood up decided to leave, and at that moment, a woman called his name from the third door.

“So. What do we have here?” Said the doctor putting a pair of gloves on. She was a tall young woman with dark short hair and blue eyes. Mickey pulled out his right sleeve and showed her his red dots. She grabbed him by the wrist and examined the area closely. “Does it itch?” she said.

“No.”

“Hurt?”

“No.”

“And if I do this?” she pressed one of the red dots strongly.

“No.”

“Have you been on the countryside or to the woods lately?”

“Ummm, no.”

She let go of his arm and took out her gloves. “Well, the tissue does seem scared, so any insect bite is ruled out.” The doctor grabbed a pen and a paper and started writing on it as she spoke. “I’m going to order you some allergies tests, but since it doesn’t itch or hurt, my best guess is that these are love of life warning marks. Congratulations.”

_Fuck that shit_. Mickey thought. “But they’re dots. Aren’t they supposed to be like… scars?” he asked.

“Well… yeah, but scars can be dot shaped too. This looks like needle points, so it could mean that your significant other was injected with a substance. Any extraction of blood is discarded because the marks are not on any vein, and the placement is too messy to be an allergy test. This is probably some kind of drug. Heroin maybe?” explained the doctor.

Mickey blinked. Fuck, was this kid ever going to be alright? The expression on his face may have given something away because the woman was now looking at him curiously.

“How long have you been getting them?” she asked. Mickey shrugged. “You know, some people might go years getting this marks before knowing who’s on the other end of it.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you might need to start looking for them.” Mickey rolled his eyes at this statement. First Mandy, now this. Why couldn’t these women mind their own fucking business? “Aren’t you slightly curious about why does the person you’ll love the most have multiple needle scars on his arm?”

“Sorry, but I’m not. Am I free to go?” He said rolling down his sleeve.

“Wait, just one more thing.” she opened the drawer under her desk and pulled out a card from it. “I’m working for an investigation group, and we are making a research on warning marks and it’s effects on human immune system. We need more people to work with.” the doctor gave him her card. “You would get payed for letting us check on your scars for a few months and make you some blood tests along the process."

_She wants to what?_ “No thanks.” he answered a little bit too harshly.

“Just think about it.” She said shaking her head. “Keep the card and give me a call if you change your mind.”

Mickey stepped out the hospital and lit a cigarette. He pulled the card on his pocket and held it on his hand.

**Bumhen Warning Marks Association**  
 _Investigation Center_  
Dr. Sammantha Weinghberg

He flipped the card between his fingers, rumpled it into a tiny little ball and threw it on the floor.

* * *

 

Lights. Green, Blue, Yellow, Red, Pink… They all flashed. There was a blur everywhere and dark shapes moved slowly around him. But this wasn’t scary at all, this was a nice feeling. There was an echoing sound of a heavy breathing and distant laughs. He thought he could hear music somewhere near him.

More flashing lights.

The heat absorbed his face, the only part of his body he could feel right now. Red. Did he have a body? Blue. There was sweat floating on his skin and around his body. Yellow. The feeling of human contact, of another’s man skin. Green. _OH MY GOD THIS FEELS SO GOOD!_ Pink. Were those his thoughts? was it someone else’s voice?

Black. Everything was black.

Someone tapped his shoulder softly, but Ian couldn’t move. He knew he was dreaming, he was floating. The sky and the sea were the same thing. Another tap on his shoulder. Maybe it was a fish, maybe he could swim and catch it. The third tap was stronger, it was more like someone pushed him. Ian woke up.

I took him some time to adjust his eyes to the light. There was so much blur and he could only distinguish a black silhouette over his head. After what seemed like a long bunch of minutes, he could see Lip’s head, looking down at him.

“‘Morning.” Said Ian. His voice was so raspy. He sat up and realized he was on the couch, his head was spinning like hell. He closed his eyes tightly in order to control his dizziness. There was an underwater-like kind of sound, as if someone was trying to speak inside a bubble. Ian opened his eyes and slowly the bubbled voices started to become clearer.

“... And who the fuck is this?!” Lip whisper-shouted. Ian looked down and saw a naked dude laying on the floor.

“Ummm… how the fuck should I know?” replied Ian rubbing the back of his neck.

“Umm, maybe because you fucking brought him?!” He said kind of angrily, still whispering. “Jesus, Ian. How wasted are you?” Ian coughed a laugh, and stood up. He was so tipsy he almost fell over the sleeping dude, but Lip catch him by the arms before that could happen. After being able to stand up by himself, he started walking towards the kitchen, craving some coffee.

“What time is it?” asked Ian pouring coffee on a mug, his hands felt numb.

“Eight in the fucking morning. You woke me up with all the weird noises you were making.” Lip paused for a moment, staring bewildered at Ian who was moving his hands and staring at them as if he was crazy. He shook his head rubbed his eyes. “Look, you’re lucky it’s Sunday but if Carl or Debbie wake up soon, this guy must be gone. I don’t want them to see a complete stranger’s dick lying around, okay?”

Ian nodded and went to the living room with his mug on his hand. He thought Lip was overreacting but he obliged. He shook the guy’s head with his foot and he woke up breathing in strongly. “Dude, wake up.” Ian told him. “You’ve got to get out.” The guy stood up stretching himself awake.

“Who the fuck are you?” he said and Ian laughed loudly, the whole situation was strangely amusing.

“I’m Ian.” he answered stretching out his hand. The other guy raised an eyebrow at him and looked around.

“Wha---? What happened? Did we...?” the confusion in his expression made Ian explode with laughter. The guy looked at him frightened. He started putting on his clothes and stared at Ian. When he was completely dressed, Ian showed him the way out.

“Wait! What’s your name?” shouted Ian from the door when the guy was about to cross the street. The guy turned back at him slowly and frowned.

“Kyle...?” he answered with a question tone and turned back around. _Kyle_ … Ian thought. _He seems to be a nice guy, I like him. I should call him someday._ Ian closed the door and inhaled deeply. It was like he could breath in all the beauty of the world in one deep breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope you enjoyed this little chapter. I loved writing Ian's part, and I hope you liked it as much. I have sooo much plans for them on next chapter...  
> Please, please send me feedback because I really need it to grow as a writer, and stick around if you liked it.  
> See you next chapter!


	6. Hyper-Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooo sorry it took me so long to post this chapter.

Morning chaos was something the Gallaghers were used to. Fifteen minutes to eat breakfast, get dressed, shower, brush their teeth -not all of them though-, grab lunches and get going. This fast dynamic has always worked for them, and today wasn’t the exception. But even if the routine was almost the same as usual, the day started a little bit different.

Ian had woken up around five o’clock that morning and turned off Fiona’s alarm clock. He took a shower and started preparing what he described as the best breakfast the Gallaghers had ever had. Cookies, lots of homemade cookies, some orange juice, chocolate milk for the younger ones, coffee for the older ones, eggs, some bacon and cereal bowls for everyone. He hummed a made up tune as he floated through the kitchen and danced as he sat the table.

“Oh Fuck! Kiiiiiids! It’s seven twenty-five! Fifteen minutes!” shouted Fiona as she stormed down the stairs. She stopped dead as soon as she saw Ian leaned over the stove. When Ian saw her he smiled widely.

“Hey Fiona!” he chanted walking towards her “I was about to wake you up!” He embraced her strongly and gave her a kiss on the cheek before going back to the stove and checking on the bacon strips. Fiona blinked with a face filled with confusion and ran her fingers through her tangled hair.

“Umm…I see you woke up early today.” She said.

“Yeah. Thought it’d be a good idea to make something nice. Have a seat!” the words were flooding out of his mouth without stopping. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. And you looked like you needed more sleep, so I turned off your alarm this morning…”

“It was you!” interrupted his sister “good I thought I forgot to set my alarm last night. Thanks for doing this today, but you don’t have to turn off my alarm, okay?” Ian just shrugged. One by one, the Gallaghers went down the stairs and sat around the table. Comments on the food didn’t take long to come.

“This smells awesome, dude!” Lip said.

“Sweet!” Carl exclaimed before stuffing a whole bunch of cookies inside his tiny mouth. The only one who didn’t seem so happy with this enormous breakfast was Debbie.

“Isn’t this… _too much?_ ” she asked as she put Liam in the highchair. She sat at her place and gave Ian a suspicious look.

“Oh it was no big deal!” said Ian enthusiastically. He was glad to help his family, to give them a nice morning for a change.

“No, I mean there’s a lot of food.” she grabbed a cookie as she spoke.

“Are you kidding me?” Ian almost shouted, but his face didn’t show anger, it showed a nice and warm smile… maybe a little bit too warm. “Look at this! We need to get a good breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day, and you need tons of energy to get through this _long and busy day don’t we??_ ” he said the last bit with a baby voice, tickling Liam’s neck. The youngest Gallagher laughed pleasedly.

After everyone had breakfast, the table was still full of food. Everyone stood up and rushed to grab the lunches that Ian had left on the kitchen table. Fiona just stood there, not really knowing well what to do.

“Okay guys, ummm… I won’t be home early but I’ll make sure there’s food on the fridge!” she said. She kissed both Carl and Debbie on the forehead and hugged Lip goodbye. She seemed to be expecting a hug from Ian too, but he was grabbing all the plates and glasses from the table. “No, no, leave it. You’ll be late for school.” Ian looked at her bewildered, as if what she had said was the dumbest thing he’s ever heard.

“But look at this! I made all this mess… If I just grab…”

“No. Please.” she interrupted him “You did enough. Now go learn stupid stuff.” finished Fiona with a smile. She hugged him and kissed him in the cheek, and Ian thought it was a good idea to get out of the house. Lip was outside waiting for him, with a lit cigarette on his mouth.

“It took you long enough. Let’s go.”

“Oh no, sorry I forgot!” said Ian walking towards the opposite direction. “I’ve got some special training today.” He lied.

“ROTC? I thought you quit or graduated or some shit.”

“Yeah, something like it. This is like advanced training. See you on the second period!” said the redhead and left trotting. He didn’t want to go to school, he had bigger plans for his day. Maybe he didn’t have an official advanced training, but he would soon enough. There was no way they wouldn't take him in the military.

He started by trying to improve his physical condition. He ran eight miles without making much effort. He found this weird pace that made him feel like he was running in slow motion, while the world around him seemed to move fast, and although he knew he was using his feet to make an impulse, he felt like he was floating, like flying.

He did three hundred push-ups, practiced throwing his knife and made some training circuit in some abandoned building near the lake. The only thing he didn’t practice was gunning. He needed to practice his shooting before trying to enlist. But he didn’t have a gun, which was highly inconvenient, but not impossible to solve.

Ian thought it was time to see his boss, Kash.

* * *

“Where the fuck are my smokes?” growled Mickey. He had been searching everywhere in that disastrous place that the Milkoviches called home, but his cigarette box was nowhere to be seen.

“Have you tried your pockets?” asked Iggy

“Yes, I fucking tried my fucking pockets, you idiot.” replied the brunette filled with exasperation. “Did you take them?” Iggy shook his head uninterested. “I swear to God, if you took them I’ll stab you.”

“Dad took them this morning.” said Mandy entering the room, wearing only a shirt and her panties.”That’s what you get for leaving them lying around.”

 _Jesus fucking Christ_.  “That douchebag. Whatever. I’ll go grab a box from Kelly’s.”

“Kelly closed her store, dude.” said Iggy

“What?!”

“Yeah. Tried to steal some pringles yesterday. The place is empty and locked up.” explained his brother. Mickey snarled through his teeth. “Go to the Kash & Grab! The stupid muslim won’t do anything to stop you.” he suggested, and Mickey rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll go. Just give me a fucking smoke already!”

* * *

Kash was surprised to see Ian early that day. Ian found that hilarious because Kash was so predictable. Ian knew what he had to do, so after a good sex session, and after leaving his boss exhausted, Ian set his plan in motion.

“Hey Kash.” said Ian brushing his crotch against his boss's butt as he passed next to him. He could feel Kash shiver. “I need a  favour.” Ian whispered. Kash turned around and faced him. They were very close to each other between the aisles of the small market.

“We need to open the store again.” murmured Kash in what was supposed to be a sexy voice, but was actually really dumb and gross to Ian. He ignored Kash’s statement and moved even closer to his boss.

“I need you to lend me a gun.” he said staring deeply into his eyes. Kash’s smile dropped hardly and his eyes widened with surprise.

“What?!” exclaimed Kash, separating himself from the redhead.

“It’s just for training.” he explained as Kash was walking away. “When I got out of ROTC I lost all my stuff. I need to practice so I can become an officer!” Ian grabbed him by the arm forcing him to look back at him again. “Please…”

Ian didn’t break the gaze, neither did he let go of his arm, until Kash spoke again. “I’ll see what I can do.” he said finally. “But I’m not promising anything.” Ian smiled triumphantly. Kash tried to hold his grin back but failed miserably. “Okay, stop smiling. We have work to do. I have to go see Linda. Can you take care of the store for a few hours?”

“Yeah, sure.” answered the redhead with a big smile.

After Kash left, Ian started making an inventory list. He was so caught up in this activity, he didn’t notice the guy who had stormed inside the store. He only noticed him when the boy grabbed a big amount of beers from the fridge. The boy, was none other than Mickey Milkovich.

The Milkovich family was known in the neighbourhood for being the most dangerous family on the southside of Chicago. Terry, the dad, had been in jail so many times that no one bothered to keep track. Mandy, the youngest and only girl, went to school with Ian and she was known as Mandy Skankovich because she has been sleeping with random dudes for the last three or four years, but she was as scary as the rest of her brothers. Mickey was the faggot-bashing thug who had been in Juvie like 3 times and owned more guns than the federal police.

And he looked hot as fuck.

The boy walked weirdly through all the corners of the store, taking in his hands more things than he could carry, and putting them inside his pockets. Ian could see Mickey wouldn’t buy any of this shit, so he just stared at him until he started walking towards the door. Ian blocked his way out by standing in front of the door with his arms crossed.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked the brunette. He didn’t notice the height difference there was between them until Mickey was facing him. Given the fact that Mickey was scary as fuck, Ian would have expected him to be taller.

“Oh yeah.” said Mickey with condescending tone in his voice. He left his beers next to the register and climbed over counter to get a cigarette box. Ian stood there, staring at Mickey’s ass. Maybe he was crazy for looking a Milkovich like that, but he couldn’t help himself. He wondered why didn’t he just walk behind the counter, but Ian wasn’t complaining because he had the beautiful sight of Mickey’s butt in front of him.

Mickey took the beers back and went to face Ian again. “I was forgetting the Malboros, thanks man!” he said with a fake smile and an attitude. When Mickey tried to get past Ian, Ian stopped him, putting a hand on Mickey’s chest, with a little too much force.

“Move the fuck off.” threatened Mickey with a deadly glare as soon as the redhead’s hand touched him. Ian gave him a look that started out as aggressive, but as soon as his eyes met Mickey’s, it turned into a stare full of lust. Ian flicked his tongue and slowly took the hand away from his chest.

As they stared into their eyes, Mickey’s glare softened and Ian lost himself in those blue eyes. How was it possible that this dirty thug had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen? With one hand on his back, Ian closed the store and immediately after, he stepped closer to the brunette. To Ian’s surprise, Mickey didn’t step back, he only kept staring at him. Ian felt his dick getting harder inside his pants. The only thing he needed right now, was that dude who was standing in front of him.

Ian smiled to Mickey, and headed towards the back of the store. With a tilt of his head, he signaled Mickey to follow him. Surprisingly, Mickey did.

* * *

 

Mickey stormed inside the Kash & Grab store hoping to see the cigarettes exhibited or some shit. Of course they weren’t, no store had his cigarettes placed in a way that they were easy to mug. The kid who run the store was sitting on the counter so he couldn’t go and grab the cigarettes just yet.

He went to the fridge and grabbed two six-packs of beer and once he accomodate them on his left arm, he started taking all the things he could think of and stuffed them inside his pockets. Cookies, chips, instant launches, everything.

When he was done, he glanced at the counter boy and, unfortunately, he was still there, looking at him. Mickey thought he recognized the guy, but he couldn’t tell for sure from the distance. He guessed he wouldn’t get lucky enough to get his goddamned smokes without a fight, and he sure wasn’t in the mood for it -wasn’t that weird?-, so he gave up on them, he could always take Iggy’s. When he started walking towards the exit, the counter boy stood up. Of-fucking-course he would try to stop him.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” asked the boy crossing his arms and blocking his way out, and Mickey had to look up to see his face. The guy, was the readhead Gallagher.

The Gallaghers were the biggest family there was on the entire southside. Six brothers and sisters, all supposedly sons of the drunk, narcissistic pig of Frank Gallagher. They weren’t a family someone would like to fuck with, but clearly they were no threat to a Milkovich, even if the redhead was way taller than him.

“Oh yeah.” said Mickey with condescending tone in his voice. He saw this stupid show that the kid was playing as an opportunity to get his smokes. He left his beers next to the register and climbed over counter to get a cigarette box. “I was forgetting the Malboros, thanks man!” he said with a fake smile as soon as he faced the not-so-little kid again. Maybe this time, the Gallagher would get the message not to bother him.

But as soon as he tried to get past him, the idiot had to put his hand on his chest.

“Move the fuck off.” threatened Mickey with  the most aggressive glare he could hold as soon as the redhead’s hand touched him. That was it. If the douchebag wanted a fight, he would fucking fight him.

It looked to Mickey that the guy tried to look threatening somehow for a second, but that look in his eyes changed as fast as a leopard trying to chase his pray. Now everything Mickey could identify in his expression was… _desire?_

Mickey hold his glare in what seemed to be a staring contest. The more he looked into those green eyes, the harder it got to hold his aggressiveness. And the fact that that kid was looking at him as if he was a piece of chocolate, really took him by surprise. What the fuck was going on? The guy flicked his tongue and slowly took the hand away from his chest. Okay that was definitely some sort of flirting. The douchebag was flirting with him. Mickey felt his heart racing and his face dropping, but he’d not stop looking at him.

He heard the sound of some keys and the redhead took a step closer to him and Mickey didn’t move. He wanted to back away, but he couldn’t, he was too distracted looking at those green sparkling eyes.The guy smiled at him and walked away, towards the back of the store.

With a tilt of his head, the redhead hint him to follow his steps. Mickey looked around. _Why not?_ he thought. He left his stuff on the counter and followed Gallagher to what he hoped was a good hook up.

* * *

 

Ian found himself surprised way too many times in such a short amount of time. First, the fact that Mickey was really short. Second, that he had some amazing blue eyes. Third, Mickey, the faggot-basher, was actually pretty much gay. And fourth, he liked to bottom.

Ian couldn’t help but laugh at his luck. He was having an amazing day, he started training again, he found a way to get a new gun and he had the most wonderful fuck in ages.

Mickey Milkovich not only bottomed, he was a master of it. Ian felt how his ass stretched and contracted with every stroke, and it made him see the stars, the fucking milky way. He was definitely going to try and get into those pants again. It didn’t even bother to him the fact that it was a quick fuck, with both their clothes partially on.

Once they were both finished, they pulled up their pants and fixed their sweaty faces in complete silence. Mickey was rubbing his nose nervously and Ian just grinned as he opened the store again. Mickey was about to get out when Ian called him from the counter.

“Hey!” he said. “You’re forgetting your Malboros.” Ian threw the little box to the brunette, and he catched it. Without any other words, Mickey left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore this dorks! I'm happy with them getting to know eachother at last! But wait... isn't there another twist??  
> hope you enjoy it and stay tuned for next chapter!


	7. New plans maybe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the worst at keeping a writing schedule and I'm so sorry this took so long.  
> First of all, you may have noticed that it says "chapter 7/14" now... That means I finally have this fic planned out and I'm SO EXCITED about it! Yayyy!  
> Second, I changed the rating to explicit, but i'm still not sure that's accurate. Tell me if I should change it back?  
> I'd like to apologize for making this so dark and painful, but that's the only way I know how to write so... Sorry.  
> I hope you enjoy it!!

_What the fuck did just happen?_

Mickey stepped out the store and lit a cigarette, his head was still buzzing with confusion. He didn't expect his trip to the store to end with a random fuck with the hot redhead cashier. The guy knew well what he was doing and made Mickey realize how much he was craving butt action. Now, Mickey needed more.

He walked home with the memory still fresh in his head, until the sudden realization of what he had done hit him like a rock. He had sex with a guy who might slip his tongue and he didn’t do anything to keep him shut. Fuck. Usually he would threaten the guy, or he would be with someone as closeted as him. But he didn’t know this guy, he didn’t know how well this boy handled secrets. All he knew was that he was a Gallagher, and that he was capable of doing magic with his dick. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, since Mickey hadn’t got any dick in a long time.

When he got home he just sat on the couch, thinking. He needed to make this guy stay shut, or his entire life would be doomed. He decided to go see him the next day and scare him off a little bit. But if Mickey thought he was doing it _just_ to scare him off, he was fooling himself.

The next day, Mickey headed to the Kash & Grab. The ginger greeted him with a gigantic smile and Mickey wished he could punch that smile away. Mickey’s face was hard, he was trying not to mirror him, but it wasn’t easy. He had never seen someone acting so warmly towards him, and it was hard to ignore the fact that the boy did have a nice smile. He shook that thought away and looked around. Kash Karib, the owner of this shithole, was filling the refrigerators with packs of beer and coke, so he wouldn’t be able to do shit until he was gone.

Mickey took one snickers bar from the counter and started eating it. He glanced at the ginger boy, who shook his head without bothering to stop smiling. The muslim looked up from the fridge and gave Mickey a mortified look.

“Hey, Kash Karib!” said Mickey. “How about you leave for a few moments and let me solve my business with this kid over here, huh?” Kash opened his eyes with surprise.

“I’m not leaving my store, Mickey.” he said and gave Gallagher a confused look. Mickey rubbed his thumb over his lower lip.

“Well then, get the fuck up.” he said turning to the redhead. “We’re taking this outside.”

“No.” said Kash trying to sound convincing, probably protecting his employee from whatever the fuck he thought Mickey was going to do to him. Mickey’s eyebrows rose and he turned to Kash again.

“Are we going to have a problem here?” he threatened. Mickey narrowed his eyes, taking a step closer. “You know my dad’s out of jail right?”

“It’s okay, Kash.” said the ginger, interrupting the exchange of glares that was happening between the two of them and stood up.

Mickey opened the door and left expecting the redhead to follow him, which he did. He only turned around once to see if Gallagher was still following him, then he kept walking for a few more blocks until he found an empty alley where no one would see them or hear them. When he reached the desired spot he looked again at the boy who had been following his lead and gave him a threatening look. The other boy didn’t seem to find it too scary though, because he still had that stupid grin attached to his stupid face.

“Stop smiling or I’ll knock your teeth off.” Mickey growled. When the other guy didn’t oblige, Mickey’s anger escalated to murderous levels. “You think this is a fucking joke?!” he shouted, pushing the redhead with his hands “You think I won't bash your fucking head open because of a lazy fuck?!” Mickey pushed him further, daring him for a fight. “You better keep your fucking mouth shut about what you think you know or…”

“Relax, I won’t talk.” interrupted the taller boy with a laugh. Mickey stared at him. “Look I don’t give a shit if you wanna play straight, I’m just here for some fun.” The guy’s voice was really soft and the look in his face made Mickey feel like a little rat in front of an eagle. This boy was pulling again the most uncomfortably lustful look towards him, and he didn’t know exactly how to feel about it. Having those eyes fixated at him made his guts revolve with awkwardness, but also his heartbeat race with excitement.

Not knowing exactly what to do next, Mickey turned away from the redhead, determined to leave, but soon the other guy grabbed him by the arm.

“We didn’t walk four fucking blocks just to talk didn’t we?” he said invading Mickey’s personal space. Soon enough, both their pants were down and Mickey was held against the wall.

* * *

When Ian entered the store, Kash almost jumped over him.

“Ian! Are you okay? Did Mickey hurt you?” he said fussing all over Ian’s head.

“I’m okay Kash.” Ian waved him off and closed the door. “He’s dealing something with Lip and he just wanted me to give a message to him.” he lied.

The sex with Mickey left him wanting for more, and more, and more… He looked at Kash and gave him an inquiring look. “Do you want me to make it up to you for leaving the store?” Ian said and winked. Kash smiled but shook his head as he sat behind the counter.

“I can’t, Linda will be here any minute. You can make it up to me later.” he said, but Ian had other plans.

“How about…” Ian chanted walking towards his boss. “I hide here…” he got in his knees and settled under the register, “and I do… _this_.” he finished as he unzipped Kash’s jeans. His boss made a vague attempt to get away from Ian’s grip, but as soon as the younger boy got hold of the older man’s dick, he relaxed and sat back on his chair. Ian played around with it a little bit by holding it in his hands and rubbing it, until he saw it grow bigger.

“Ian… Ummm… We- we should…” mumbled Kash. “Oh God Ian… Linda’s gonna… ummm… She’s gonna be here…” Suddenly, the bells on the door announced someone’s arrival

“H-Hi Linda.” said Kash with a trembling voice as he straightened on his chair. He slapped Ian’s hand away and tried to control himself. “Where are the Kids?”

“I told you today, I dropped them at Cindy’s. Her kids and our kids are on the same school and I needed someone to take care of them while I’m trying to keep us on float. Plus, making some friends won’t hurt them.” she said.

In the meantime, Ian had grabbed Kash’s dick and started licking it as Kash was trying to keep a straight face. Ian found it really exciting that they were doing this with such a risk of getting caught. His body was filled with adrenaline and the thirst for sex was growing bigger and bigger. He tried not to laugh and to keep the sucking sound to minimum as the other two kept talking.

“...I need you to go get them before eight and make them take a shower. Where’s the redhead kid? He’s supposed to be working.” said Linda’s voice over the counter.

“Ummm… He -uhh- he had to leave early.” answered Kash choking back his moans.

“As long as you are not paying him for this hours, I don’t care. We need to start saving money for this school year. No more breakfast in the store.”

“Mmmh.”

“And stop playing games on your phone when you have costumers! There’s a lot of things missing.”

“Fuck!” he exclaimed loudly reacting to Ian’s tongue. “I- fuck...so-sorry.” he added trying to hide his accelerated breathing.

“Yeah, yeah. Be sorry when we aren’t able to give our kids a dinner. I’m late. See you at home.” she said and immediately after, Ian heard the door getting closed.

“Are you crazy?!” cried Kash pulling away from Ian. Their eyes met and Ian gave him a big bright smile. “Linda would have killed us if she found out!”

“Do you want me to finish you off?” asked Ian with a provocative grin sticked on his face. There was a small pause in which Kash seemed to be shocked by Ian’s behaviour.

“Well… Yeah…”  He answered finally and Ian leaned over to his boss one more time.

Later that day, Lip showed up. He looked furious.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" he barked. Ian gave him a small smile, he didn’t understand why his brother was so mad.

“Hey Lip!” said Ian happily. “It’s so good to see you here!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You didn’t come school today, again.” Lip said leaning over the counter.

“Oh, right.” Ian nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t feel like it.”

“You didn’t feel like it?!” his brother asked rhetorically. “And what did you feel like doing? _Fuck your boss?_ ” he murmured the last part with a disgusted frown. Ian snorted a laugh and shook his head at his brother’s madness. He knew this wasn’t about school, this was about Kash.

Lip never liked the fact that Ian had some kind of relationship going on with his boss. When he found out, he ranted about it a lot, saying that Kash was using him, that he was some sort of mistress, and that Ian should be smarter. Ian on the other hand, didn’t give a shit.

“Nah man, I had other plans.” Ian replied.

“Other plans? Like what? Ditching school?”

“Maybe.” Lip didn’t like that answer.

“Are you KIDDING ME?!” he shouted. Ian just shrugged. Honestly, Ian plans were better, he had so many ideas on how to get out of this place, how to get in the army and become an officer without school or without Lip’s help, that he didn’t need his older brother to give him advice. School was just getting in the way, so Ian didn’t want to go there anymore. “You are an idiot.” Lip said with anger, storming out of the store. Ian didn’t care, he’d show him who’s right on the long run.

* * *

The days when Terry spent the whole day at home were the worst. Mickey was used to being left alone with his brothers at home lately. After his last time in prison, their father had spent more and more time outside the house, to the point Mickey had forgotten what was it like to be scared all day long. Of course it was not going to last, and Mickey should have known better than to fall into a relaxed routine. But he did, and now he had to avoid his house as much as he could.

Luckily that meant that he would use this as an excuse to go and get fucked by the redhead cashier everyday. The first few couple of days, things went smoothly. Mickey left the house after scamming some money with his family and went to the store around the same time, when the boy’s boss had to go God-knows-where. They had sex behind the fridges and Mickey left. There wasn’t any exchange of words or awkward moments, and Mickey was surely glad for it. After that he would walk home to find his dad passed out on the couch, or focusedly rambling at the TV.

But after a few days, things got sort of weird. After the redhead told him _casually_ that his name was Ian, Mickey couldn’t stop repeating that name on his head. Now that he knew what name to put to that face, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He tried to brush it off, like everything that mattered to him in the past. But he couldn't and it was pissing him off. He had that stupid grin of his attached to his memory and somehow it made him think of his soulmate.

Somehow, the fact that he was seeing Ian on a regular basis made him believe he was cheating or some shit. But it couldn’t be that way, because he didn’t know his soulmate yet. And he hadn’t got any warning marks is a couple of days, so the guy didn’t need his help right now, didn’t he? Mickey remembered what he saw on the internet once, some people never get to know the owner of their scars, and considering Mickey’s luck, that could be the case.

Mickey also contemplated the idea the maybe Ian was the one on the other end of his scars. But then he remembered the way that boy smiled. He was so happy all the time, it seemed impossible to believe that they were the same person. Mickey knew that people tend to hide their emotions; fuck, he did it all the time. But this was different. Ian’s smile was so genuine, so _big_ , Mickey sometimes thought this guy was constantly high.

No, Ian wasn’t his soulmate, that was utterly impossible. And if Ian wasn’t his soulmate, Mickey was safe from falling for him, so there wouldn’t be any problem if they hanged out… a lot.

* * *

Boys Town on weekdays was so much more fun than on weekends. The music was better, the lights were brighter, the people were nicer… everything was so much better. Ian realised he loved dancing, and he felt so good doing it here. He spent the night at the dance floor, surrounded with hot boys and fancy drinks. Ian felt great.

The cute bartender winked at him from the distance while he was enjoying his dance moves. The man had blonde hair and bright green eyes that flickered with the flashing lights. He wasn’t wearing any t-shirt, and his abs looked like he had been working hard on them. Ian contoured his body in a seductive way and faced the bartender. He winked at him and licked his lips before turning back around. A few moment later someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey hottie!” shouted the bartender to make his voice clear over the loud pumping music. He was holding a tray with long drink resting on it. “Take it.” said the blond man. “It’s on the house.”

“Oh my gosh, thanks!” cried Ian enthusiastically. He took a sip and his eyes widened. “Oh my God, this tastes so good! What is it?” he asked the bartender.

“Melon Mojito. It’s a new drink. Making it a trend before the summer begins.” explained the blond. Ian closed his eyes as he finished his new favorite drink. His head was already fuzzy with all the alcohol he had consumed before, but this tasted so good, he couldn’t be bothered to worry about his soberness.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw the bartender getting closer to him, and leaning for a kiss. Ian felt his cheeks getting hotter as he kissed the guy back. He also felt his stomach sink and his dick throb. As the kiss grew deeper, their bodies mashed together, and soon enough, they were leaving the dance floor.

Ian didn’t remember exactly _how_ they got there, but now they were on some sort of service room jerking each other off. Their sweaty bodies were pressed together and the blond bartender was sucking a hickey into Ian’s neck. Once they were both finished, the guy ran his fingers through Ian’s hair.

“You have a good hand, ginger.” he said with a sigh. Ian’s head was pounding hard and he felt like throwing up. As he tried to put himself back together, the other guy kept talking. “You could totally work here you know?”

“Yeah?” Ian was taken aback. “How is so?”

“Well, you definitely look hot enough, and you have nice moves dude.” he said checking Ian’s naked torso out.  “We’ll have to do something about your scars tho…”

Ian’s brows shot up. _Fuck_. He had forgotten to put on his long-sleeve shirt. He looked down to his wrists and saw the white pale skin filled with those old transversal stripes along his arms. A huge wave of self-consciousness hit him from his insides. The other guy saw Ian worrying and gave him a warm smile.

“Hey, don’t worry, I’m not judging you. We get a lot of southside kids here. I know that being gay there’s a big struggle down there.” he said. Ian nodded, ignoring that those scars had nothing to do with being gay. In fact he didn’t even remember what they had to do with. “But that’s a big turnoff for our customers,” continued the blond guy. “so as long as you cover them, there’s no big deal. We have some waterproof concealer and some bracelets to cover them up.”

“That sounds like a great idea!” said Ian without giving it a second thought.

“That’s a yes?” the blond smiled widely

“Sure!”

“Great! Come tomorrow night and we’ll get you started.” he said opening the door. “My name is Colin by the way.”

He thanked Colin for everything, put on his shirt and left the club. Ian felt so pumped he danced all the way home. He wondered why he never took the L at night. The way the city lights looked so good with the movement of the train, Ian couldn’t help but hope he could take pictures of it. He could be a good photographer… Maybe with the money of his new job he could buy a camera. His thoughts drifted away so fast, Ian found it hard to keep track of them. But it didn’t matter to him so much, he’d be sure to write them down as soon as he got home. But when he opened the front door, Fiona interrupted his plans.

She was sitting on the couch, looking at the door, with big bags under her eyes, viciously smoking a cigarette. Ian guessed she had been waiting for him, and now was really late. Why didn’t she just go to sleep?

“The fuck have you been?” she asked standing up. She was really angry, but Ian couldn’t understand why.

“I was at the club…” he said with a soft voice, trying to make sense of his sister’s anger.

“On school night?!” she replied even more furious now. Jeez, how was he going to make her relax?

“Yeah…” he said slowly and Fiona’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Relax Fee. It’s not big deal. I’m not going anyway. I dropped out.”

“Yeah, Lip told me about it! Are you out of your mind?!” his older sister was shaking her hands above of her head. Ian was surprised. He expected Lip to be pissed, but Fiona? She had to know better!

“No! This is for a better future, I have new plans! I can help you out.”

“I don’t care what your plans are. Your job is to stay at school.”

“You dropped out too!” he snapped furiously, raising his voice. He wasn’t going to accept her hypocritical shit. His frown was big and he had started breathing heavily. But then he noticed Fiona’s face, he had hurt her. She did her best to hide it quickly and soon she shouted back.

“Do you think I had a _choice_?! My job was to raise you, to keep this house on float. I haven’t busted my ass so you could ditch school a year away from your graduation.” her eyes were wet, and tears were threatening to fall down her cheeks. “School, or out!”

Maybe it was the ultimatum. Maybe it was Ian’s inexplicable anger. Or maybe it was the fact that Fiona, of all people, judged his decision and look at his as if he wasn’t himself. Whatever made him do it, as soon as he understood what his sister implied, he cried “Fine!” and without giving her time to react, he rushed upstairs and grabbed some of his stuff.

“I’m out.” he said firmly as soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, and left without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who still read this in spite of my inconsistent updates.  
> Special thanks to my tumblr friend, Dana, who is my fave person ever and who proofread this for me.  
> Tumblr: obsessedoverseries.tumblr.com


	8. Rent-a-Couch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, after coming to terms with the end of season 5, I could sit to write this chapter, which is one of my favourites so far. I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

_Punch him!_ growled the voice of his father inside his head. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to fight it, somehow Mickey obliged against his will. A dagger of pain stabbed Mickey’s chest as soon as his knuckles met the redhead’s face. The boy that was curled on the floor didn’t react to the punch. Mickey couldn’t see his face, but he could identify his stupid messy hair.

_Fucking kill that fag!_ Terry’s voice commanded from the inner corners of Mickey’s fears.

“No, please. Stop.” said Mickey with a low voice. He wanted to cry, to shout, to get away from there, but he couldn’t. Instead, he hit the guy harder until the redhead closed his eyes. Mickey broke in tears.

_Kick him!_ his head insisted. _In his fucking face!_

“No!” he tried to resist, but he could feel his leg setting in motion. He couldn't control his own body, the voice was was telling him what to do and he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t, but apparently someone else could, because the moment before his foot bashed Ian’s skull, Mickey felt a few taps on his shoulder and woke up.

Waking up from his nightmare was a relief, but it didn’t last much, because as soon as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he found out there was someone standing next to his bed. As fast as a blink, Mickey punched that someone on the stomach, forcing them to bend over.

“Ow! Fuck!” said a familiar voice.

Mickey rushed to turn on the light and faced Ian who was trying to catch his breath.

“Gallagher?!” he whispered. “The fuck are you here for?”

“That…” Ian said with a sigh. “that was uncalled for.” Mickey stayed silent, looking down at Ian until he put himself back together. After a few seconds, Ian stood up straight and gave Mickey a concerned look. “Can I stay here tonight?” he said.

“Fuck, no.” Mickey scowled. The guy was completely out of his mind if he thought he’d let him stay with him. They weren’t going to share bed, or kiss, or do stupid dating shit. They were just fuck-buddies, Mickey had made the point clear in the past. He glanced at the window and saw that it was dark outside. “What time is it anyway?” asked Mickey rubbing his eyes.

“Around four in the morning.” Ian replied and Mickey’s brows shot up.

“Fucker. Didn’t you have something else to do rather than waking me up inside my fucking house?” Mickey said nonchalantly. He took the cigarette box from above the bedside table and pushed one Malboro between his lips. He offered one to the tall redhead that was still standing there. He should have kick that asshole out the moment he saw him there, but he didn’t want to. Instead he acted relaxed around him, not really minding to spend some moments with him.

“Got kicked out.” said Ian shrugging as he took one smoke out of the box. The way Ian said this so matter-of-factly made him wonder how hard were things for this kid at home. Mickey was surprised, he always thought that the Gallagher’s were a close-knit pack, but maybe he was wrong.

As he inhaled the smoke into his lungs, Mickey let his thoughts drift away into a state of semi-consciousness for a few minutes. He didn’t look at Ian as he sat on his bed, he didn’t take another drag of his smoke, he just sat there. His eyelids felt heavy, Mickey could feel how his eyes were closing and he was dozing off. Man he was fucking tired. Mickey shook himself awake and they both stayed in silence a few moments until Ian, who was looking at him expectantly, spoke again.

“So can I stay?”

There was no way Mickey would let him stay. Terry was sleeping there, his brothers were there, and if they saw Ian staying they would ask questions, questions Mickey wasn’t ready to answer. If Terry found him being nice to someone he’d call him a pussy and a fag. He’d probably beat him up too, even if Ian slept on the couch, it was too risky. And even if nothing happened, even if Ian left before anyone wakes up, even if they didn’t share bed or room, if Mickey let Gallagher stay, that’d meant that he gave a shit -which he didn’t, honestly-.

Nah, if Gallagher needed a place to stay, he’d have to find someone else’s door to knock on.

“Whatever man. Go crush on the couch, I don’t fucking care.” he said, neglecting all his previous train of thought and survival instincts. The redhead smiled widely, his eyes lit up in excitement. He looked so happy that it seemed he was about to start clapping and jumping like a little girl. Mickey found himself struggling to avoid mirroring his smile once again. “Now get the fuck out of my room before I change my mind.” he said at last getting inside his bed.

“Thanks! Goodnight Mickey.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

* * *

“Who the fuck are you?” barked a male voice, waking Ian up. Ian opened his eyes and saw a big man looking down to him, who was curled up on the Milkovich’s sofa. Ian tried to put his thoughts in order and sat up.

“Ummm…” was all Ian managed to say. The man’s expression shifted from confused to threatening in a matter of seconds. A pair of big hands grabbed him by the shirt and swirled him around. His back hit a wall and Ian cried in pain. He felt tiny little pieces of plastering falling off the wall and all over his shoulders.

“YOU BASTARD!” yelled Terry Milkovich holding Ian firmly against a wall. “You slept with my daughter?!” he shouted, spitting on Ian’s face.

“Mandy?” Ian asked stupidly as he tried to make sense of what was going on, which resulted in Terry banging his head back again against the wall, this time harder.

The bang on his head left him with a weird sensation on the top of his skull and it took awhile for him to open his eyes again. When he did, he saw the knuckles of the Milkovich father heading straight to his face. He was quick enough to avoid the punch that would've broken up his nose.

Terry kept on shouting but he couldn’t make out what he was shouting about. Ian’s head was buzzing and his body was shaking. All his muscles tensed up and he clenched his jaw as he tried to escape of his grip. It wasn’t easy. Terry was holding him with such force he couldn’t find a way to shake him away.

“Fucking bastard. I bet you like pussy because that’s what you are! A pussy that want’s in my girl’s pants!!”

More shouts.

Ian stopped caring about anything that wasn’t knocking this asshole over. Terry was still banging him against the wall but he didn’t feel the pain anymore, he could only feel the rage. The rage of wanting out of that jerk’s hands, the rage of wanting to punch him in the face, the rage of wanting him fucking dead. He looked around and tried to figure out all the flaws in Terry’s posture. It took him about .3 seconds to figure out the best way of making him fall with his own weight.

He had started balancing himself on his feet when couple of tattooed hands fell firmly on both of their chests.

* * *

 Mickey heard a loud bang and woke up. He looked at the time, it was 8:26 in the morning. Fucking shit. He hadn’t gotten any sleep last night and now, some ashole decided it was a good idea to practice boxing using the wall as a punching bag. Mickey groaned as he rolled on his bed, trying to get back to sleep. He closed his eyes and a few seconds later, he heard another bang.

_Fucking assholes!_ he thought. Then, he heard a scream.

“I bet you like pussy because that’s what you are!” Terry’s voice shouted from the living room. Fuck.

He had been stupid, he had been an idiot by letting Ian stay the night. Terry must have found out, and was kicking the faggot out of Ian. Maybe it was a matter of time until it was his turn. _Fuck._

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

There was another loud bang and Mickey hesitated. He had learnt not to get in Terry's way , not to help anyone who was on the receiving end of those punches unless it was Mandy, which luckily didn't happen much. Was he willing to risk his life to help a stupid redhead he had been fucking with? Of course not.

But something about Terry being fucking deadly when he was mad made him feel sorry for this boy. What was that even? Mickey being sorry for someone? The hell was wrong with him?

Another loud bang was enough to make Mickey stand up and run towards the living room.The scene he faced once he reached them was nothing like what he had expected.

Terry was holding Ian against a wall, and the strength he was applying to the grip was quite noticeable because the muscles and veins on his father’s arms were very tense under the skin. That wasn’t new. But what caught Mickey off-guard was the look on Gallagher’s eyes. The glare he was holding was murderous, insane. His brows were arched, his jaw was tense, his lips were curved down and his nostrils were wide open. He was the vivid image of a bear about to attack.

For a moment, Mickey doubted who was in more danger, if Ian or his father.

Both of them were unaffected by Mickey's presence, Terry was shaking Ian so hard that Mickey wondered how could he hold his deathly stare. When Terry pulled his fist to strike once more, Mickey rushed to interrupt. He put his hands over both of their chests and tried to break them apart.

"Dad! Stop! He wasn't with Mandy!" He yelled at his father, hoping to come up with a good excuse to why was Gallagher there in the first place.

"Then why did he break in _my_ house?" replied Terry not looking at his son, still holding Ian.

Mickey didn't dare to look at the redhead now, instead he looked fixedly at Terry.

"He didn't break in. Hold on-" he tried to explain. "It's okay. Let him go." A few seconds after, his father looked back at him. Mickey nodded. Terry relaxed his muscles and finally let Ian go, but he still stayed close to him, not giving Ian the chance to leave the room.

Mickey felt a wave of relief when his father put his hands down, and had to suppress a sigh.

"Who the fuck is this?" Spitted Terry in Ian's direction.

"He's some kid that helps me with the runs when Colin and Iggy aren't here."  He said running a finger over his forehead, but Terry seemed to need more than that. "Look. He got kicked out and needed a place to stay."

"This isn't a fucking shelter."

"I know but-" Mickey started to protest but his father cut him off.

"This-isn't-a _fucking_ -shelter." He insisted stressing every word, then he turned to Ian. "You better have a job or start helping with the businesses. You bring money or you out."

Terry said that. Those words literally came out of Terry's mouth. Mickey was astonished. The redhead's face was bright and happy when he spoke.

"I can bring money! 30 bucks a week?"

"What?!" Mickey exclaimed as he pulled off the most bewildered expression you could think of. Not only he was surprised that Gallagher would pay 30 bucks a week to sleep on the couch of the most homophobic man alive, but also about the fact Ian was going to actually stay more than he should’ve.

Terry was smiling too now.

“I like this kid.” he said to his son. Mickey replied with a raised eyebrow. The world had gone completely mad, everything on that sequence lacked of any kind of sense. Gallagher was now actually living with them and it was Terry's fucking idea. What was next? Mickey becoming the next ballet queen?

With Ian handing Terry the first 30 bucks, the deal was sealed, and Mickey's life was doomed forever.

Terry left the house with a cheerful smile, probably determined to spend the rest of his day drinking at the Alibi room. Mickey and Ian stood there perplexed, both staring into nothingness.

When Mickey was finally able to snap himself out of the shock, he found Gallagher eyeing him with a stiff posture.

"The fuck are you still here for?" He barked harshly.

"I live here now." Replied the readhead with a huge smile that made all of his teeth visible.

"Don't you have school or a job to show up at?"

"Nah, I quitted both of them.";

"Oh you did?" Mickey asked sarcastically. "And how do you plan on paying to my father, smartass?"

"I work nights now."

Mickey narrowed his eyes in suspicion of what working nights really meant, but didn't pick up on that. With no more words, he followed the steps of his father and left the house.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was short, I'm sorry for that... maybe I'll add another chapter to make everything that's going to happen after this fit propperly.  
> I also want to add more fluff... they deserve a break from all this darkness, what do you think?  
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave some feedback if you liked it, and see you next chapter! :3


	9. Behind the thin walls

Being alone in the Milkovich house wasn't something pleasant. Ian's head was pounding with pain as he looked around the messy place. There was dust everywhere and a ton of rubbish covered every single corner.

Ian felt something hot falling over his neck and rubbed his hand over it. Blood. All that hitting against the wall had opened up a wound on the back of his skull. How inconvenient. With a hand making pressure over the bleeding spot, he wandered around the house in search of a bathroom.

After a few moments he found a bathroom inside Mickey's room. He tried his best to stop the bleeding with a towel, but then decided that if he was covered in blood, he had to take a shower.  When he turned on the tap he saw a big roach trying to escape from the water and came to the conclusion that this was the filthiest bathroom he's ever showered in.

Ian found it funny though. He didn't know exactly what was funny about it, if the insignificant life of the roach being at risk by just a little water,  or the fact that he was going to get inside that dirty shower, or even the fact that he was going to live there from now on. Maybe the only reason he was so amused about stupid things was because he was losing a lot of blood from his head. He didn't know, but he didn't care either. With a few quick movements he got undressed and jumped under the running water.

The feeling of the water over his body was the best feeling in the world. The temperature was excellent and the pressure was on point. Ian let the water run all over his hair and face, seeing all the blood that was being washed away over his body, until the water ceased to be tinged red and became transparent.

He stepped out of the shower and grabbed the only clean towel he could see to dry himself off, stepping out of the bathroom towards Mickey's room. Ian could feel how his wound was starting to drip blood again, so he took the towel that was covering his naked body and pressed it against his head.

At that moment, the bedroom door opened and someone came inside.

"Jesus! Dude!" Exclaimed Mickey covering his eyes as soon as he entered the room. "You mind covering that up? No one wants to see your flamingo."

"Flamingo?" Asked Ian, ignoring Mickey's complaints. Mickey uncovered his eyes and made a face.

"Dude, do you mind getting that towel off your head and use it on your parts?? Jesus!" He said avoiding to look at Ian's dick, but Ian could catch a few glances Mickey threw towards his body. "What are you doing in my room anyway?" Added Mickey before Ian could answer anything.

"Sorry, my head is bleeding. Can't take the towel away."

" 'Ait would you at least put some boxers on?"  Mickey insisted, throwing a pair of his own boxers at him.

Ian smiled at Mickey's awkwardness. It was funny that he would insist so stubbornly to Ian to put clothes on, when more than once it was Mickey that would desperately try to unzip his pants.

Ian obliged and put Mickey's boxers on with one hand, as he hold the tower with the other. He couldn't stop smiling at Mickey, who was looking at the opposite direction now. He wanted to laugh, but not because the situation amused him. There was something else, something about Mickey that made him feel weird in a good way. Ian couldn't identify what was that about.

"It's okay to look now, I'm dressed."  Ian said, not being able to wipe the smile away from his face.

Mickey turned around wearing a poker face, and Ian lost his mind. A million ideas of what he'd like to do to the boy standing in front of him bombarded his head non-stop. One after the other, images of sexual encounters with Mickey assaulted his imagination, mixed with stupid catchy songs that he didn't remember listening to, and some thoughts he didn't even have time to identify before the next image popped up in his head.

"...check that." Mickey said, snapping Ian back to reality.

"What?"

"Your head dumbass." Mickey replied with no real hardness in his expression. "Let me see it."

Ian dropped the towel and Mickey grabbed his head. Ian felt Mickey running his fingers through his hair around the wounded area. His pulse accelerated, as well as his breathing. He felt the tenderness with which Mickey was holding him and his heart skipped a beat. Ian found himself wishing that moment lasted forever. But it didn't, and after a few seconds, Mickey stopped.

"You won't need stitches but  you'll need to clean that in case your hair causes an infection." Said Mickey avoiding eye contact. "Hold on. I'll bring some alcohol and gauzes."

And without sparing Ian a single glance, Mickey left the room.

Ian looked down in order to clear his head, but found a disgusting image in front of his eyes. He hadn’t been covering his old scars, again. Fuck. He wrapped the towel around his wrists and hoped that Mickey didn't notice them moments before . He was almost sure that wasn't the case, but how could he be sure?

* * *

Mickey was losing it. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and muttered a low "fuck" as he closed the door behind him. His heart was sinking, it made him feel awful. How come he could feel so good and so bad at the same time?

He hadn't meant to treat the redhead with such care, but he _wanted to._ He had resisted so many urges since he found Ian naked in his bedroom, he wasn't sure he could resist any longer.

As he grabbed the first aid supplies, he promised to himself  that he'd forget about Ian Gallagher forever. From now on he was just a dude who rented his couch. If he didn't cut the ties now, however thin they might be,  bad shit was likely to happen. So when he entered the room again, it was as if he had never fucked the guy. Ignoring the presence of Ian's naked torso, Mickey proceeded to clean the redhead's injury, being more violent than he needed to be.

Ian hissed a few times when the alcohol came in contact with the broken skin.

"Ouch!" Exclaimed the redhead with the last touch of the gauze. "Too harsh maybe?!"

Mickey didn't apologize. He tossed the gauze and checked his pockets, craving for a cigarette.

"Done." Said Mickey pushing a smoke between his lips. "You can leave now."

"Okay..." said Ian with a confused expression. He saw Ian turning around and heading towards the door, but before leaving, he turned back to Mickey and frowned. "What was that about?"

"Would you leave me the fuck alone in _my_ room?"

"No." Ian's face was serious.

Mickey raised an eyebrow and Gallagher stepped closer to him.

"Why did you turn so harsh all of a sudden?"

"Don't know what you talking about."

"Don't bullshit me." Ian spitted. Mickey felt his jaw tensing up. "Is it because I was naked? Because you hate that I make you hard?” he said invading Mickey’s personal space.

“Fuck you!” Mickey shouted.

“Yeah, that’s what you want.”  and that was all Mickey needed to snap He pushed Ian back with both of his hands, using all his strength, but it wasn't enough to make Ian fall. "What?!" Ian insisted crossing his arms over his chest, holding the bloody towel firmly. "What huh? You are gonna pretend nothing happened?"

"Listen dickhead." threatened Mickey. “Whatever we’ve been doing until now, is done. It won’t happen again, so get it out your head. Get the fuck out of my room, and you can also leave my fucking house, I don’t give a shit. You and me, will never happen.”

“What is your problem?!”

“YOU ARE MY PROBLEM!” Mickey pushed Ian as he shouted. “You and your fucking nosy head that came here and ruined everything. You think you can come and make my dad make you stay here? Fine! But I don’t want to have anything to do with it.”

“I-NEEDED-A-PLACE-TO-STAY!”

“AND _I DON’T GIVE A SHIT!_ ”

There was a moment of silence. Both Ian and Mickey were breathing heavily, with anger painted all over their faces. Their noses were separated by just an inch and the air around them was so dense that Mickey thought he could cut it with a knife. Nothing had ever scared Mickey, nothing, -except of course, Terry- but now he found himself dreading the look on Gallagher’s face. He was wearing the same look that he had been wearing the moment Mickey found Terry holding him against a wall, and it freaked Mickey out a bit.

Suddenly, the look on Ian’s face shifted to something Mickey didn’t have time to identify, and left the room slamming the door shut.

* * *

After leaving the house Ian felt sick. He had stopped himself before things got out of hand, but the impulse of hurting Mickey during that fight had been so strong and aggressive that he was scared to death about his own thoughts. What was going on with him?

This was nothing like the times he had wanted to kick his brother Lip in the face, or the times he had wanted to bash some ashole’s head. This was different. Ian had envisioned himself viciously hitting the brunette in the face, severely injuring the guy. For a moment he even doubted if it was real or not.

Ian took a moment to breath after running a few blocks and decided he'd needed to focus on something else now.

He remembered Colin and his new job. He remembered the warning Colin gave him about the scars. Stupid scars. He cursed his past-self for being so dumb.

But he was better now, all that was behind him. His scars, his old job, old boyfriend, his stupid sister, everything. Ian was a new Ian and his life was going to get better. He was going to make it outside the southside and he'd never have to look back.

He spent the afternoon walking through a bunch of stores. He took all the spare money he had and bought himself a bunch of clothes, many cigarette boxes, a few types of skin foundations, and even some eye makeup. Even though he bought everything in some of the cheapest stores in Chicago, soon enough he had run out of money. Pushing all the new clothes inside his backpack, Ian tried to figure out what his next steps were going to be. He needed to get some more money before the night or he wouldn’t be able to make it to the club. He thought of maybe asking Kev, but Fiona had probably warned him not to help. Lip wasn’t a choice either.

Processing all the options that popped in his head, Ian started walking with no real direction. He had been walking all afternoon and he wasn’t even slightly tired. He thought he could even make it on foot. But before he could give that thought any chance, a new idea presented before his eyes.

A few meters away from Ian, there was a big black door that smelled of opportunity. A gay-pride flag hung over the white dirty wall, and a bunch of drunken men were singing outside. The place was trash, the men there were trash and the daytime light made it look even more trashier, but at least he’d get something out of it.

“Hi!” said Ian approaching the least drunk looking man, which to be honest, wasn’t much.

“Hi!” replied the man enthusiastically, exhaling a wave of beer breath.

“Mind if I borrow your lighter?” asked Ian playing with his cigarette between his fingers.

“Sure.” said the man, handing him the lighter. The man was so obviously checking Ian out that he went straight to the point. After lighting his smoke, he grab the other man’s hand and softly placed the lighter inside it.

“You know…” said Ian slowly. “I have a place a few blocks away.”

The other man narrowed his eyes. “How much?” he asked.

“Seventy-five.”

“Jeez! Why so expensive?”

Ian shrugged and hold a smirk. “Nine inches.” The man’s eyes widened and a smile crossed his face.

“Okay then, fair enough.” said the man with a smile.

Ian started walking and the other man followed the lead. The man was so drunk he had lost the ability to walk steadily. He had started to ask Ian a lot of stupid questions like “how old are you anyway?” or “have you always been a ginger?” and all Ian wanted was to find an ally to get this over with.

Just a couple of blocks away, Ian found the glorious ally he was searching for. The man stopped dead at the sight of the ally.

“This is a dead end.” he said.

“Oh no, there’s a back door at the back corner.” said Ian, walking towards the end of the ally. “You coming?” The guy walked shakily until he reached the empty corner of the ally.

“There’s no door he-” the man started to say but got interrupted by a punch in the face. “Hey! What the f-” another punch.

“The money.” said Ian. “give it to me!”

“I don’t…”

“Shut up! Give me anything you have or I’ll fucking kill you bitch!” Ian hurried him with a few pushes. The man was pressed against the brick wall and his eyes were opened in shock. The fear crossed his face as Ian hurried him for the money.

“Okay, Okay!” said the man trembling. “Here, here, that’s all I got, really!” he added handing Ian everything he had inside his pockets. Ian glanced at the money once and pushed inside his own pockets.

“Thanks man!” he said at last with a charming smile, and then he run away.

* * *

It was three o’clock in the morning and Mickey hadn’t sleep a wink. Tired of rolling stupidly over his bed, he stood up, lit a cigarette and went outside. He sat at the porch, listening the silence of the night, frowning at the cold.

He tried his best to keep his mind silent, but one constant thought disrupted him.

_Gallagher._

Fucker had to be so stupidly vulnerable in Mickey's eyes, and Mickey couldn't help but feel guilty about it.

Gallagher had been smart enough to find shelter with the Milkovich, knowing that the only danger there were the Milkovich themselves, but no one else. No one would fuck with the Milkovich clan. Ian Gallagher could've been safe and Mickey had to kick him out.

 _Good job at not giving a shit_. He said to himself.

But of course he did. He didn't know how or why, but this dude had gotten _somewhere_ underneath Mickey's skin.

"Fuck." He muttered. _I'm fucked._

Failing at letting go of his thoughts, Mickey took the last drag of his cigarette and tossed the butt into the street. At that moment a pale figure appeared walking awkwardly down the street.

Mickey's far sight was shit, and it took him awhile to figure that the pale figure was a man, a tall, skinny, almost naked man. The moonlight had a weird effect on the man's skin and the image in front of him was so bizarre, Mickey had the feeling he was watching a drunken Edward Cullen walking down the street. Then, the light fell over the bright red hair.

"Look what we've got here!" Mickey shouted. Ian didn't respond and kept walking absent-minded through the middle of the street. "Hey, Gallagher!" He insisted.

The redhead stopped dead and looked back at him. Suddenly, Ian collapsed on the floor.

“Wooah!” exclaimed Mickey standing up. He run to see what happened and found Ian laying on the floor, passed out. The guy was only wearing a tiny golden short and a couple of golden bracelets, and he looked pale as fuck. “Hey…. you okay man?” Mickey shook him a little bit. No response.  “Shit.”

Mickey pushed one of Ian’s over his shoulders as he tried to hold him up with the other. The redhead was fucking heavy and Mickey struggled at lifting him up. After a few moments of Mickey weighing him down on his back, Mickey pushed Ian’s fainted body over his shoulders and slowly carried him towards the house.

“That’s it man, help me out a little bit.” muttered Mickey as they reached the living room. He gracelessly dropped the redhead’s body over the couch and sat down on the floor. He pushed a cigarette between his lips and looked at Ian. The younger man opened his eyes and blinked a few times.

“Mickey?” said Ian when he saw the older boy sitting next to him. “Wha- what happened?”

“You passed out in the middle of the street, that’s what happened.” Mickey muttered staring into nothingness. Ian was making weird gestures with his face and hands, and he was shivering with cold.

“I-uh you…when?” the redhead tried to say, but he couldn't articulate.

“Relax man.” said Mickey standing up. “I- uh… I’ll get you a cover.” he finished and left the room. When he came back, Ian was still shaking and staring at the wall with eyes wide-open. Mickey threw the covers at the younger boy and turned around, avoiding eye contact.

“Mickey?” whispered Ian when Mickey was about to leave. He doubted but turned to face Ian once more. He didn’t say anything and waited for Ian to speak again. “...stay?” said Gallagher almost inaudibly. Mickey blinked a few times. He looked away and back at Ian again.

“Sure.” he said at last in the same silent manner. He took a few steps towards the couch and sat next to the couch leaning back on it. At first he didn’t want to look at the other guy, so he faced the wall.

Slowly, Mickey turned his head back at Ian, who was looking at him expectantly. They stayed there in silence, only hearing each other's steady breaths, staring into their eyes. Gallagher was slowly leaning closer, and maybe Mickey was too but he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that soon enough, their faces were separated by an inch and they were still quiet and gazing into their eyes. The tension was there, pushing them closer and closer every second that passed, and their breaths were no longer steady, but shaky. So mickey closed his eyes and leaned in for a kiss.

The kiss was soft and tender. Their lips brushed together with no desperation or hunger, but instead they danced slowly, with no pressure under the lips, just filled with the touch. With parted lips, they both enjoyed the presence of the other’s mouth without breaking the contact or hurrying the pace.

It didn’t last long, in fact it was a really short kiss, but it was enough for them now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I guess this was a long chapter... I hope you liked it. Thank you for all the kudos so far!  
> Follow me on Tumblr (obsessedoverseries)


	10. I wasn't planning on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so It's been months since I've last updated, but here it is, chapter 10 of TSOY.  
> This chapter has 3.6k words!! Is a long one. The next few chapters are going to be around this length but this time I promise not to take so long to update.  
> Maybe you've noticed that I changed the tags, now I have the "rape/non-con" archive warning and the "attempted rape" tag. In this chapter there is a rape attempt, it's not really grafic, but in case you might get triggered I'd suggest you to be cautious while reading.

“Why the fuck...” said Mandy placing a couple of beer bottles over the table and handing one to Mickey “..is Ian Gallagher living here?” she finished her question.

Mickey shrugged. “The fuck should I know.” He took a big swig of his beer and continued to count the bills he had earned for the smartphone business.

“It’s just weird, you know?” she insisted sitting in front of him. “Dad’s okay with it?”

“Dad’s getting money out of it,” he said distractedly. “that’s for sure." But in fact he wasn't sure.

The last past week Ian had become some kind of chaotic ghost that haunted the house. Mickey almost never saw him and the only evidence he had of Ian living there was the blatant mess he left behind him. Not that the Milkovich were particularly neat or clean, but one could tell this was a new kind of mess. Instead of leaving empty booze bottles or cigarette butts, Ian left weird stuff, like cereal boxes or new shoes, lying everywhere.

Mickey wondered how did Mandy know it was Ian the one who was staying, giving that he was practically never there, he left too damn early in the morning and came back too damn late. Mickey wasn’t sure if Ian had ever pay the couch rent, or whatever.

They stayed there, drinking in silence for a few moments until Mandy spoke again.

“I’m glad he’s here though.” Mickey raised his head in disbelief and arched a brow. “What?” said his sister. “He’s hot. I should totally bang that before dad kicks him out.”

Mickey snorted and shook his head. _Good luck with that_.

Interrupting their little smalltalk, the redhead Gallagher entered the house.

“Hi guuuuuys!” he chanted pathetically. Both Mandy and Mickey looked at eachother with incredulous looks plastered over their faces. Ian was so happy to be with the Milkoviches it was disgusting. “So…” Ian said “I have this friend who’s totally awesome and is throwing this party tonight after my shift. You both should so totally come!” he exclaimed.

Mickey snorted.

“Sure!” exclaimed Mandy happily. Her grin was unmistakably sexual and Mickey couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of his sister desperately trying to find an excuse to be alone with Ian at that lame party.

“Awesome!” exclaimed Ian enthusiastically. “You, Mickey?”

“Not in a million years, man.” He answered not caring to looking at him. “Don’t see the fun in surrounding myself with a bunch of fags and girly drinks if I don’t have to bash anyone.” The second he said that he regretted it. He glanced subtly at Ian and saw him shrug.

“Too bad. It’s your loss.” he replied and Mickey could hear the shade and seductiveness in the redhead’s tone. Jesus fucking Christ, that was close. This dude could have spit it all out in front of fucking Mandy. Mickey should really stop giving this guy the chances to fuck everything for him. “Anyway. Good to see you guys!” Ian added drumming the surface of the table with his fingers and left the room. It wasn’t until Mickey heard the door shut that he realized Gallagher had gotten inside his room _again_.

“Ugh. You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Mickey puffed and blew, stood up and lit a cigarette, inhaling all the smoke directly into the lungs which made his throat sore. He was now furious, and stomping towards his room, he yelled “This asshole’s gonna learn not to use my goddamned shower!”

Mandy only laughed before taking another big long glup to her beer.

When Mickey got inside his room, the bathroom was already locked and the noise of running water indicated that Gallagher was already showering. Shit, that boy moved fast. He fought the urge to blast the door open and grab him by the neck to pull him out and kick his pale ass, so he sat at the feet of his bed and waited for him to come out. A few moments later, water stopped running and the redhead stepped out of the bathroom so the raven haired boy stood up to confront him. He just wanted this over with.

“You’re seriously not trying to punch me, aren’t you?” said the other boy vigorously wiping his wet, bright red hair with Mickey’s towel. Mickey was caught off guard but tried not to show it. “Dude, I thought you were over this _aggressive attitude_ towards me.” he said shaking his head but wearing a half smile.

“And I thought you were over using _my_ fucking shower and being naked in _my_ fucking room, but here you are swinging your dick all over my shit.” Mickey was gesturing a lot with his hands and he accidentally brushed one of his fingers over Ian’s flat stomach. Mickey flinched at the touch but hoped for the other guy not to realize, besides it was a subtle mistake, wasn’t it? “Figure you won’t get the message unless I break your fucking kneecaps.” he added threatenly, raising an eyebrow and clicking his tongue. The other boy just seemed exasperated.

“Okay, okay. I get it.“ Ian raised his hands. “You are this tough and angry guy who wants to fight everything that’s on his way”  He grabbed the towel he was using on his head and placed it around his body, covering his arms and everything under his waist  “And I mean, you knew I was here. If it bothers you so much, why do you keep coming when _you know_ I’m going to be naked!”

“Because It’s _MY ROOM_!” Mickey shouted but Ian was unaffected by his tone. In fact, Ian’s expression was soft and welcoming. Mickey wasn’t angry, not really. But he had to be, that was the only way he knew he'd get the redhead to stop bothering him.

Ian stepped closer to him, looking down at his feet.

"Look, if this wasn't your house and you found me naked after a shower, you probably wouldn't be shouting at me, and you’d rather be doing something... else." He said. Their eyes met. Mickey wanted to argue, shut his damn mouth, but his tongue didn't respond, so he just frowned. Ian sighed and stepped even closer while Mickey stood frozen on his spot.

"You know no shit about me." Mickey managed to mutter in what was almost a whisper, with no venom to tint those word with.

"I know what you want. That's why you let me in on the first place." The air between them was thin and Mickey was suddenly more conscious about how deeply they were both breathing. He caught a glimpse of Ian staring at his mouth and saw him lean closer. Mickey was petrified. "And I want it too..." whispered Gallagher, throwing his vanilla and cigarette scented breath at his face. It smelled awesome.

Mickey closed his eyes in order to regain control. "It won't happen here." he said at last, taking a step back. When he opened his eyes again, Ian was smiling goofily, leaning back to give him some space. What was he smiling at anyway? At first Mickey tried, but it was too hard not to mimic his dumb smile, then he looked sideways and snorted, trying to hide the way his mouth was slightly curved upwards but failing miserably.

“Good!” exclaimed Ian, walking backwards towards the bathroom. “Then you should come visit me at my job.” Mickey snorted. “What? If it can’t happen here…”

“What do you want from me?” asked Mickey trying to sound annoyed. Ian was all jumpy and moving, and _happy_ … he radiated so much cheesy energy, which would normally pissed Mickey off, but this time it just made him feel relaxed.

“I just told you!” he replied, shouting from the bathroom. “You should come see me at work.”

Mickey took some random object he had lying on the floor and started moving it around absently with his fingers. “Oh yeah?” he shouted back, sounding uninterested. “I don’t even know where you work, so…”

“Boystown” interrupted Ian and then got out of the bathroom. Ian had dressed up, way too classy for the place he was living in, and had thrown a very strong cologne on himself. Mickey was shocked, both at Ian’s statement and impressive looks.

“No shit.” he mocked him.

“I’m serious.” Ian was just distracted putting some bandana’s on his wrists and moving shit around. Mickey couldn’t understand how he was unaffected by what he was saying and what it implied.  

“So what are you, some kind of twink?” Mickey asked, trying to hide all his judgement and sudden feelings of disappointment and disgust. Who the fuck was this dude? How was it possible for him to be more fucked up than Mickey was? Jesus, Mickey was feeling bad for Ian. In all his life, Mickey had gone through periods of hunger and need, but never, not even once had he thought of prostitution as a resource. Was that what Ian was doing all day outside?

“Just a dancer. So you coming?” Ian looked at him.

“Nah, that’s not my type of thing ya know?” Mickey replied looking back at the object on his hand. He felt bad, and it made him angry.

* * *

Dancing was something that Ian did really good. To be honest he was awesome at dancing. Colin had told him how many men had approached the rod just to compliment on the new dancer. And it was great because that meant more tips, and more tips meant more money for his projects. So when the music hitted the dancefloor, Ian started contouring his body showing all his expansive confidence.

When the club was almost full, Ian was making this sensual movement with his belly and hands, the colorful lights were moving all around him and the loud music was so catchy that he easily lost himself in the beat. Drinks kept coming all the time. Collin usually came with a tray filled with the fancy cocktails random clients bought for him, and Ian accepted them with no doubt. Once or twice, a man tried to make a move on him, but Ian just kept on dancing. The fast movements he was making with his head made him dizzy, but it was an awesome feeling. The dancing platform was starting to feel too small for Ian’s dance. He wanted to jump around, dance, freak out. He was so excited to be there, this was the best job he had ever had. He got off the dancing platform and started swirling around alone, feeling the beat move inside his body, his accelerated pulse and unsteady breath. His vision wasn’t focused, but he had nothing to focus on, only his dancing and the colorful lighting that fell over his undressed chest.

Someone started dancing behind him, brushing his hands over his shoulders and neck. Those hands were sweaty and warm, but it felt nice. It was so much fun. He turned around and saw a tall man dancing along to Ian’s beat. The man was full of gray hair, and he was definitely old, but he looked hot enough for Ian to want to keep dancing with him.

“Hey!” the man said.

“HEEEY!” Ian replied excited and started laughing at his own voice. The man laughed too and they kept dancing face to face. Ian realized the man was getting closer once he had him almost glued to his body. It was awkward to dance so close to a man so old, and as near he was, the weirdest it got. The man leaned over and Ian’s first instinct was to step back but then he realized the man wasn’t going for a kiss, but to get near his ear.

“Want to have some fun?” he whispered while searching into his pockets. He took a little bag with white pills and shook it so Ian could see it. The man opened it, took two pills and stuffed one into his mouth. Raising an eyebrow he took the other one and brought it near Ian’s mouth. Ian threw his head back and opened his mouth, letting the man place the pill on his tongue.

When Ian closed his eyes the dizziness increased, the feeling that the dance floor was spinning under his feet became very present when the sense of sight was shut. He kept his eyes closed just to let that weird sensation grow and take over his body. He was moving too fast for the music that was playing on the background. He didn’t care. He was moving his belly and butt around with seductiveness, going up and down all the time, moving in circles, shaking his legs and arms slowly. With eyes closed, Ian owned the world.

At one point he opened his eyes again and found himself surrounded by a lot of men who were dancing along to his beat. The pill’s man was behind, dancing really close to him while moving his hands around him in what Ian interpreted was a possessive way. Ian felt something chill crawl up his back and shivered. The feeling roved through his shoulders, neck and arms and kept moving all over his back until Ian realized it was the man’s hands who were touching him. He tried to step away but the man hold him with a sort of embrace from behind. Ian freaked out a little bit. The man kept on fondling Ian’s body, going from the chest downwards towards his crotch while resting his own over Ian’s butt. Ian slowed down the rhythm of his dance, being suddenly turned on by the touch. The man pressed himself against his back, rubbing himself over Ian’s little shorts, and Ian didn’t know how to react. Together with the fact that he was too affected by the alcohol and whatever pill he may have consumed before, his mind kept doing this weird thing where he had coexisting and contradictory thoughts at the same time. On one side he wanted to turn around and make the sexual tension increase until they both exploded, but on the other side he wanted to kick him on the balls and get the fuck out. But he couldn’t accomplish neither.

Ian’s cheeks felt numb, as well as his fingertips. His body started feeling a little bit shaky and cold.

“Wanna go somewhere private?” whispered the man behind him who was holding him tight with both arms. Ian couldn’t reply, he felt like his body was passed out but his mind was still awake. The surroundings were confusing to his eyes and the lights and smoke made everything worse. His arms hung loose on his sides and it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes focused, or his head held up.

The man was brushing his sweaty palm over Ian’s left thigh but the touch didn’t feel like such, but more like a breeze that liked to play with his leg. In fact Ian felt almost nothing, he was too lost in his lack of soberness, in the darkness of the club and the throbbing sound that earlier was music, but now felt like something else.

There was a loud noise and immediately, the pill guy let go of  him. Ian was disoriented. Between the upbeat music, he heard a familiar voice shout.

"If those hands go near that firecrotch again, I'll personally break all the bones of your fucking skull!"

A cold, tattooed hand grabbed him by the wrist and pushed him across the club.

_Mickey?_

* * *

It was the third club Mickey had entered that night. Boystown was a disgusting place to be, and recalling the night Mickey helped Ian after he passed out, he couldn't help but fear that the boy was in real danger. He had seen too many disgustingly old men carrying almost unconscious bodies of teenage boys for one night. It didn't matter to him what wicked impulse had brought him there, now that he had seen the place he was glad he was there.

He entered this club called "Fairytale" in hope that it wasn't too late. The place was like the other ones, maybe smaller, with extremely loud electronic music that pierced his ears and filled with white dudes that were dancing awkwardly everywhere.

He looked into the crowd from the entrance, hoping to see the sparkling red hair he so desperately needed to find.  It wasn't an easy task, giving that there were too many bodies down there, it was like playing find Wally but with more anxiety and concern. Eventually his eyes met with a tall redhead and he was relieved, but that feeling didn't last long.

Ian was paler than ever even in the dark lighting. His eyes were closed, he looked weak, collapsed over the body of a man on his fifties, who was very much abusing him, grabbing his inner thigh.

Mickey's blood started to boil in his veins. He dived into the waves of dancing male bodies and pushed everyone who stepped on his way, never taking his eyes away from Ian, not even to blink.

"HEY!" He shouted when he was at a fair distance. He took the man by the shoulder and twisted his arm, forcing him to let go of the redhead and turn around towards him. Ian stumbled at the sudden lack of support and the other man opened his eyes in surprise. "If those hands go near that firecrotch again, I'll personally break all the bones of your fucking skull!"

The man made a face at the sight of the short boy and Mickey glared at him furiously. The man caught the message and raised his hands in surrender, then left stumbling through the crowd. Mickey looked at Ian who was still standing there, wobbling on his axis, confused, his sight lost into the air. He took him by the wrist and dragged him across the dancefloor.  He was fixedly staring at the exit, desperate to make it there without Ian passing out halfway through it. Ian's weight was making lots of pressure over his arm, but he was still able to walk, which was a good sign. When they were only a few feets away from the door, someone grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Hey! What’s going on here?!”  A blond boy said angrily. The boy was almost as naked as Ian, but he looked pretty sober, though compared to Ian that wasn’t so hard to accomplish. The guy had bright green eyes and was looking anxiously at almost-passed-out-Ian. Mickey got angrier.

“What’s going on is that one of your perverted clients tried to drug him up!” He spitted at the tall, fair-haired guy, and attempted a move to leave, but the guy had the nerve to stop him again.

“You’re not taking him.”

“Look, asshole.” Mickey said taking a step towards him, holding Ian tightly. “He looks like this because none of you fuckers gave a damn if those geriatric vigroids tried to fuck him up. So shut the fuck up. He’s not staying here like this! He’s coming with me!”

At that moment Ian straightened up, opened his eyes widely and stared at the tall duche that was standing in front of them.

“Coliiiinnn!! Heere he Mickey!” he slurred stupidly and went back to hold himself over Mickey. The guy who Ian called Colin narrowed his eyes and got nearer Ian, bending over to see Ian’s face.

“You sure gonna be safe?”

Ian nodded.

“Yeah. Like you give a shit anyway!” Mickey shouted and resumed their departure.

Once they were on the street, Mickey started to notice Ian was slightly more focused. He was able to walk a bit on his own but Mickey didn’t let go of him, and Ian didn’t protest. Mickey had given his jacket to Ian so he would stop shaking and shivering. After a few blocks, Ian’s speech was at least understandable and he was acting so goofily that it made Mickey relax and laugh a bit.

“Soooooo, thi berrst part is the boom…” Ian said

“The boom?”

“Yeah, thi boom… When thi music makees like… _BOOM BOOM WIIIIII_ ” he shook his hands in the air trying to imitate the sound or something. They both laughed, and they kept laughing all the way towards the L. It was almost three in the morning when they finally got there. Ian had been very chatty and at some point Mickey joined the fun, even if he was completely sober, the fact that Ian was so hammered made everything more relaxing and enjoyable. He didn’t have to put up a fight or act indifferent, it was easier just to let go, even if he didn’t know why.

After waiting for a good forty five minutes, the train finally got into the station, and they got in. They sat together and Ian stopped talking so much, which Mickey was really thankful for, he was so tired by then, he just wanted to get home. Ian rested his head over Mickey’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Mickey glanced sideways at him, looking at his pale skin and freckles. He stared at him more than he liked to admit, until all of a sudden, Ian spoke again.

“Why were you there?” he asked, his eyes still closed. Mickey bit his tongue, he was not going to answer that. In fact he didn’t know the answer to that question himself. “You care?” Ian insisted.

Mickey sighed, words stuck in his chest. Did he? He clicked his tongue a few times, trying to come up with an answer, but words were too much for him now. He glanced back at Ian and saw he was asleep, maybe he had already been asleep when he asked those questions, he didn’t know for sure.

“Sure.” he murmured so quietly that it didn’t matter if Ian was awake or not, he wouldn’t listen anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's it for now, I hope you enjoyed it.  
> Follow me: obsessedoverseries.tumblr.com


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